


A Secret Whispered Behind Downy Feathers

by Blue_Sparkle



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel/Demon Hybrids, Aziraphale technically single parenting it, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Metaphysical Sex, Minor Angst, No actual pregnancy it's all metaphysical, Secret Relationship, True Forms, celestial sex, metaphysical pregnancy, minimal sex scenes it's all sort of off screen, the physical sex is not explicit and all efforts are up for interpretation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22409077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: Starting a torrid affair means that Crowley and Aziraphale get to experience all the joys of love a human could possible feel. But given that angels and demons have other, celestial bodies, it stands to reason that those can be enjoyed as well.As such a dalliance is without precedent, there really was no way for Aziraphale to know that there might be consequences. Specifically consequences in the shape of a half angel, half demon child without a corporation and no chance of approval from Heaven or Hell.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 225
Kudos: 334





	1. Chapter 1

Falling for the Serpent of Eden had its drawbacks. No, not even just the concept of falling in love with a demon and all the implications of that. Aziraphale had gone through that moral conundrum for millennia of seeing Crowley as a friend, and then again centuries after first realizing that he did indeed find the demon more than passively attractive and that his feelings were a little more tender and multifaceted than just friendship.

The problem was, that the Serpent was temptation incarnate. He offered you what you did not even know you wanted, presented you with possibilities and choices you didn’t know you were making. His very nature was leading one into temptation blindly, going through with unwise choices without even realizing that a consequence was possible. By the time you noticed it would be too late, you took the forbidden fruit, you were out of the garden, you were facing the costs of being distracted by those mesmerizing eyes. And the worst thing was that you couldn’t even fault him for doing this to you. You couldn’t fault him because perhaps all the hardships were a worthy price, in the end. You couldn’t fault him, because by someone – Crowley didn’t even know what his actions were leading to most of the time.

It would take quite a while for Aziraphale to calm down from his initial indignation and accept that it did indeed take two to tango and he had his fair share of the blame to shoulder.

The trouble started somewhere in the middle of the 18th century.

Things had progressed very slowly between the two of them, both always walking the delicate line of living out their ill-advised friendship while looking over their shoulders. Aziraphale had no frame of reference for how angels (or demons for that matter) went about relationships. Up in Heaven everyone already knew one another and while there wasn’t much mingling between the choirs, everyone was set in their friendships since before the Beginning. Given that they were immortal Aziraphale supposed that taking it slow was more than reasonable.

Around the 11th century Crowley’s suggestion brought forth the Arrangement, and things just progressed steadily from there. They actually made an effort to meet up rather than bumping into each other on accident. Though it was hard to call it an accident at all, if Heaven and Hell always took interests in the same events thus leading to their only representative on Earth ending up in the same locations without fail. Around that time Crowley started doing favours for Aziraphale. Picking up interesting books, bringing him food to share, getting invitations to theatre and balls and other fun events. It was much easier to do so when they knew where each other were, easier to plan for while pretending that they didn’t.

And bless it, Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice how he was being wooed. It was around that time that humans around Europe started to really focus on developing the genre of romance, and Aziraphale, mostly mingling in courts of various royal houses, couldn’t help but see the similarities. The way Crowley would do things for him, be kind and wave it off and not expect anything in return unless it was explicitly part of their Arrangement and even then it was just a vague reminder that the angel owed him.

Then there was the way Crowley would be protective, always circling him and watching and showing up when Aziraphale encountered a spot of trouble. Very little could harm Aziraphale in a way that was more than annoying. But it was just so very _nice_ to be pampered and taken care of and thought about. No being that knew what Aziraphale was would ever think him in need of assistance, and yet Crowley went out of his way to be kind. Of course he would then go and cause some cart to break down or a horse to be spooked in the middle of a market to make up for the good he did, but Aziraphale didn’t really mind that little bit of mischief.

There was a coyness about them, tactical avoidance of broaching the subject when their friendly encounters had a sudden tension, a promise of something more being just one step out of reach. It thrilled Aziraphale to feel this potential brewing, much as he knew there would never be anything. It would just be too much of a hassle, and why jeopardize their current positions?

And then the French courts kicked off a trend of decadence and beauty and change was palpable in the air like a promise of a storm. Aziraphale for once put care into dressing at the height of fashion and Crowley dipped into wearing colours, and he did look so very good in a tightly cut coat in deep burgundy, and scandalous behaviour was just part of the way people had fun. Could anyone really blame him when (what he would claim if asked) a handsome stranger in a leather mask whisked him off his feet at a masquerade ball and seduced him into salacious behaviour? That his pure white and powder blue costume got ripped in his haste to give in to temptation because things were just a little too perfect and if he were human he’d be able to claim drunkenness? (Which would be a lie, Aziraphale had sobered up the second Crowley’s hands had touched the bare skin of his wrists just to make sure he wouldn’t miss even one moment).

It would have been so terribly rude to sneak out of the lavish guest room in Versailles the demon occupied at the time. While angels really shouldn’t be engaging in sexual encounters with humans after all that unfortunate business with the nephilim, it would be even worse to leave a partner to wake up alone in the morning. And then Crowley had woken to gaze up at Aziraphale sitting in his bed so lovingly, had kissed the bare skin of his hip and rolled over to really worship him and-

Honestly, Aziraphale wasn’t made of stone after all! Without the masks there was no plausible deniability, but that word wasn’t one he could even think while Crowley’s tongue was doing interesting things to him.

The rest, as one said, was history.

The two shared a very awkward breakfast that morning, hours before any other partygoer would even entertain rising from their beds to cure a hangover, and while Aziraphale would have been fine with letting it go, Crowley had insisted they talk about it. So they did. Vigorously. After this the table had been miracled back together, and the Arrangement received its first real amendment. One couldn’t be too careful with upstairs and downstairs checking in now and again, and with humans having their own set of rules regarding romantic entanglements that were fickle and depended on location and social standing.

After this, sex became a frequent addition to their secretive meetings. Whispers of adoration spoken in their bedrooms, touches and kisses whenever this was appropriate, in between friendly lunches and their usual activities. Their relationship changed, became easier and more relaxed as the hesitant half flirtations gave way to what both of them actually wanted. The chance to have sex and kiss made everything else nicer as well, though of course Aziraphale couldn’t deny that Crowley was incredibly skilled. The way the demon worshipped Aziraphale in bed was downright blasphemous.

It could have gone on forever without any issue, had Crowley not been so blessedly imaginative. Aziraphale wasn’t particularly creative when it came to matters of lovemaking. He would have been content to just roll around in bed with their limbs entwined, and sometimes mix it up with other locations or mouths and hands. Other than erotic illustrations and romantic literature he didn’t have a lot of inspiration and often both of these didn’t strike him as something he’d like to try himself. Crowley on the other hand would flush and look at Aziraphale with a mix of eagerness and nervousness, suggest this and that and ask if Aziraphale would like to try it. So far nothing Crowley suggested had earned him a no, only huffing and grumbling as they talked about whether it would actually be fun, and the occasional decision that an experiment ought not be repeated.

The incident happened a few years into the 19th century. Aziraphale had finally gotten his newly acquired bookshop set up in a way that he thought was simply perfect. At first everything had been orderly and neat, but after many rearrangements and additions to his shelves it was a mess only he saw a system in, cosy and stuffed full of things that delighted him, making it hard for humans to move about in fear of knocking something over, let alone purchase something. Crowley had joked about this being very much a nest, and while Aziraphale huffed and chided him for these jokes, he had to admit that it was a little bit like that.

While Aziraphale hadn’t initially wanted to add a living space into his bookshop, Crowley had been quick to point out that a bedroom would be of benefit to their Arrangement. That was were they were now, lying in the soft bed surrounded by crumpled blankets and pillows that had been thrown out of the way in their previous activities. Aziraphale was completely nude, stretched out on his back and basking in the afterglow, eyes closed and a soft smile on his lips as he was still catching his breath. Crowley tugged off his awfully tight trousers, finally, after the blasted things had been in the way for the past half hour with neither being in the right mind to get rid of them properly.

The demon seemed restless, skin still beautifully flushed all over from the exertion and he would occasionally sneak glances at his angel. Aziraphale was too busy enjoying the moment and taking his well earned break to do anything about it, but he knew Crowley was about to suggest something to do next. It would be like this sometimes, if Crowley was particularly high strung and full of nervous energy. Where Aziraphale tended to prefer taking it nice and slow, drawing out pleasure at an excruciatingly gentle pace, Crowley would go for burning passion and clashing together over and over. It was truly a joy to be swept up in that.

Finally Crowley won out whatever internal battle he’d been fighting and stretched out next to Aziraphale, facing him and biting his lip.

“We should switch it up, angel,” he said, the yellow of his eyes completely taking over. “Try something new.”

“Switch it up?” Aziraphale asked, taking a glance at Crowley’s crotch. “Oh, change efforts? That’s hardly trying something new, my sweet, I think we’ve tried any possible combination I’m aware of.”

Crowley shook his head and ran his hand over Aziraphale’s chest.

“Na, not that. I mean, switch it up in _how_ we’re doing it. We’ve only ever tried you know. The corporeal stuff.”

Aziraphale furrowed his brow, struggling to understand with the distracting touches on his body.

“What other way is there?”

Crowley’s blush deepened and he looked at Aziraphale like a snake regarding its prey.

“You know. Mingle our ethereal and occult bodies. Do it the _celestial_ way.”

At this Aziraphale felt his own cheeks heat up and he scooted up to lean on his elbows.

“We can’t do that, Crowley!” he protested. “It’s simply not done!”

“What, cause we’re an angel and a demon? Come on, I was an angel once, remember. Can’t be that different. And we’re already fucking, it’s not going to be that much worse a crime.”

Aziraphale bristled and tried hard not to imagine what it would feel like. He had never done it that way, wasn’t entirely sure who among his fellow angels had at all. It wasn’t something to bring up in his rare visits upstairs after all. To try it out with Crowley would…

“It’s not that! What we do here it’s… Well, nobody could possibly tell that we’ve been doing what we are by just looking. But with our true forms- It’s _mingling_ , Crowley, what if something-” Aziraphale waved his hands vaguely, unsure of how to explain. “Stains. What if other angels would be able to tell just by looking?”

Crowley smirked at Aziraphale’s choice of words but his hand stilled on the angel’s skin, making it easier to think.

“You think something will get stuck in you? I don’t think it works like that. And when was the last time anyone ran around showing true forms to each other?”

“During the great rebellion,” Aziraphale sighed. Now that he had let himself think about the very idea of doing this with Crowley he felt his corporation react with interest. It wouldn’t play a role in whatever happened, but that was just how the sensation translated. “It’s considered rude to do so. Takes up a lot of space after all, with all the wings and the wheels.”

He looked at Crowley, with his gorgeous serpentine eyes, the hair hanging into his face all mussed and tangled by Aziraphale’s own hands. There were faint marks on his shoulders and chest, barely visible now but still clearly displaying the places Aziraphale had grasped and bitten before. He was the most beautiful thing Aziraphale had ever seen, and it suddenly struck him what a display of trust it was for the demon to even offer what he had. To even permit just a glance at his true form. At least among angels, it was quite a private thing.

It was so dangerously close to true affection though, a step neither of them could quite take. Having an affair with the opposition was one thing, but love? They never really did bring up their emotions, but just to suggest to lay himself bare for Aziraphale like this was close enough from Crowley. 

Aziraphale rolled on his side, arms wrapping around his demon. He still felt tender from before, his entire body feeling the demonic touch, and he could feel his interest stirring. 

“Do you even know how it’s done?” he asked, brushing back some of Crowley’s hair so it wasn’t hanging into his face. 

“Can’t be that hard,” Crowley said. “You just shift your awareness one step to the side, same time as me, and then...”

He shrugged and then his eyes lit up in eagerness. 

“So you want to try?”

Aziraphale thought about the potential danger of touching something demonic just as Crowley might be hurt by touching something holy. He thought about how even just being in love, even unspoken, and having sex with a demon was a horrible transgression on his part, and how going this extra step might be what shoved him over the edge. Could an angel Fall for something like this?

“Well,” he said slowly, wrapping his arms around Crowley’s neck. In for a penny…

“We certainly should make an attempt, my dear.”

*

The thing about celestial forms is that they exist in much the same way a human aura might. It’s always there, it’s certainly somewhat of the true form of an angel (or being of angelic stock). But it is not something that one is aware of too much. Like the back of one’s head, it’s there but not what one focuses on while walking through the world.

On earth there is simply no place for it to exist. It doesn’t quite fit into the way atoms are arranged, distorts time and space and causes humans to scream in horror or divine ecstasy; unable to process the sight that breaks the laws She had created for reality. Very few were equipped to handle such a presence without crumbling to their knees.

But even among angels and demons one did not show their celestial body. It was both rude and unnecessary, not to mention that Heaven and Hell also existed within a reality that didn’t really offer the room for such things. God had created the Heavens for Her angels early on, but during the eternity of the second Day it had been decided that even they ought to occupy a dimension similar to her creation. And thus celestial forms were tucked away and covered up much as most human cultures generally took care in not showing off their navels all too casually.

Aziraphale stretched out his hands and looked around. Reality one step to the side was dark and light and beauty, a fog of gold and black that he was always occupying alone when he did shift into his other shape. It wasn’t unlike what the world had looked like as angels were still helping Her shape it into existence. There was no sense of scale here, and truly Aziraphale wasn’t sure how much room his celestial body would occupy if he were to pull it into reality fully. The few times he had approached humans in his angelic glory he’d pulled out his attributes to appear on his regular form.

His being consisted of several aspects, all separate in a way a human would see them, but still part of his body. The core was very vaguely human shaped, if a human were to roll in a pile of sticky glowing sand until they were completely obscured. Cream and gold swirls shifted through his body and wings unfurled behind him, feathers covered in eyes that blinked in and out of existence. A Principality’s crown sat on his head, a ring of soft downy feathers and wings that could cover his face or stretch up into a dome as he chose, a trait unique among his rank.

Then there were the rings. They were halfway between a complex clockwork and the rings around their system’s fifth planet, glowing and inscribed with angelic blessings, idly circling the very edges of Aziraphale’s being. If Aziraphale stretched out his wings fully they couldn’t quite reach the outermost ring with the biggest diameter. Those were a protection of sorts, just the same as a human’s bubble of personal space, if those could be made physical. This was the only bit Aziraphale did miss about his celestial form when he wasn’t in it, especially when customers dared approach him with a book in hand.

He was so caught up in taking in the rare sight of his own form that it took him a few moments to notice that the nothingness around him was moving. He peered into it, squinting his many eyes into the dark until he spotted movement.

Only as Aziraphale focused in on it did he notice the decidedly demonic presence. Emotions were the driving sense here, and with no malicious intent Crowley appeared just like any other angel might at first glance. He was different from Aziraphale, his scale completely off, his being made of darkness.

It wasn’t the darkness of Hell, the evil dwelling in the hearts of men. Aziraphale hadn’t been in outer space very much when it was being made, so it took him a second to place what he was seeing. Where he was liquid gold and pale white of early morning comforts, Crowley was the pitch black of space, his body made of nebulas and the darkness between the stars. Sparks of gold and red could be seen in him, and Aziraphale gasped as he saw that his beloved was a star cradle through and through. The darkness was hiding galaxies, stars were born and expanded, shone brighter than the sun before collapsing or exploding into supernovas of red and gold, running through entire star life spans within heartbeats all through the demon’s body.

“Oh my darling,” Aziraphale gasped out, wanting to reach out and take a closer look.

Crowley was circling Aziraphale, just outside where his light fell. He paused, and Aziraphale took him in fully. The shape of him was only humanoid in parts, a head and torso, with something that looked like hair trailing behind him in flashes of light much like an aurora borealis. There were no arms where Crowley’s shoulders seemed to be, but Aziraphale saw spindly limbs circling Crowley and reaching out carefully. Sharp wing-like shapes jutted out behind him, attached and circling him in the same way a moon circled its planet. The soft slope of his slender waist never ended, instead stretching out into a snake body that trailed so far behind him that Aziraphale couldn’t make out the end.

“You are beautiful,” he said, feeling his face light up in gold as tears threatened to fall.

Crowley twitched nervously and finally started drifting towards Aziraphale’s rings.

“You’re jusssst sssssaying that,” the demon hissed. “No need to sssseduce me. I’m already in your bed.”

This close Aziraphale could see that some of the golden specks in Crowley’s shape were remnants of celestial essence, traces of his once angelic nature, torn and sharp at the edges where they had been ripped away.

“No, my dear. It’s just that it feels right to speak the truth now that we’re. Well. We’ve seen each other in such an intimate way.”

Crowley paused, the coils of his body wrapping around himself as if he was bashful. Then he drifted closer, just a breath away from Aziraphale’s rings. With a smile and a rustle of all his wings Aziraphale reached out towards him.

“Come on in, my darling. I would still like to see if we can do this.”

At this Crowley swayed in place for a moment before slipping past the rings and into Aziraphale’s space, careful not to bump his serpentine tail against them. Aziraphale paused their gentle orbiting around him to let Crowley enter freely, and the moment the demon had passed the first ring he let out a gasp.

It felt warm, familiar, very much like the unspoken love and devotion he could feel when he focused in on Crowley’s emotions with all his might, not daring to focus in on what he couldn’t have too much. Beings of angelic stock weren’t usually good at picking out each other’s mental state in a crowd, having to focus unlike the easy way they noticed base feelings of humans. This, Crowley being in his spheres, felt just like that, unobstructed and perfect.

A few moments later spindly fingers brushed over Aziraphale’s arms, several pairs of hands very carefully petting against him. Aziraphale opened his eyes, all of them, and looked down at where Crowley was touching him.

“Is that alright?”

Wings wrapped around Crowley’s form, pressing him closer to Aziraphale, bodies flush. The mist of Crowley’s hair tangled in Aziraphale’s crown, both of them gasping at the flood of warmth. The closer they were the more they could feel each other’s emotions, thoughts. As clearly as if they were one being.

“Oh,” Aziraphale said, unable to say anything more eloquent. They didn’t have language right now, not really, and there simply was no word in any mortal language for this. He looked down to where they were touching, saw sparks of stardust fly up and mingle, gold and red and black and white bursting up and settling back down and in their light it was impossible to tell what belonged to whom. They were quite possibly mingling their essences. It didn’t hurt, so Aziraphale supposed it was all right.

“Oh darling, I want you-” Aziraphale choked out just as Crowley breathed a “Anything, angel.”

Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s shoulders, as he was so used to. When he touched, his hands didn’t connect to solid flesh, or even a demonic body at all. It was as if old curtains had been disturbed for the first time in a decade, dust raining up and settling around him. Only it felt welcoming, as if he was being pulled into a lover’s embrace. And Crowley’s embrace was Aziraphale’s very favourite thing.

Their both cried out in surprise as their bodies shifted and became less solid where they were touching, mingling, shifting into each other, ecstasy burning where they looked to become one. Aziraphale’s wings beat frantically, pushing him forwards into points of contact and Crowley whimpered as their torsos seemed to occupy the same space for a moment, his arms tightening around the angel and sinking into him as well. Easier than air with air indeed.

There was no real space where they were, no need for two celestial bodies to occupy their own fairly distinct room to exist without destruction. Hands grasped and clung, wings brushed over scales and a serpentine tail wound around them over and over. Each particle of light brushing against the other’s was a tiny supernova of pleasure, making both shudder and moan. Within seconds (or decades, there wasn’t exactly room for time perception left) the angel and the demon were a tangle of light and dark bursts of fire, wings and limbs shifting in a new glow, quite different from what either of them looked like on their own. If there was anyone at all to observe they would no longer be able to tell that it was two creatures before them, rather than just one, abstract and inhuman.

Aziraphale had no capacity to describe his feelings, his rapturous pleasure. Oh he did know all about carnal pleasure, the joy of Crowley’s hands on him, his whispered endearments. But he had no body to react to these kinds of things right now.

He didn’t know how long it lasted or how it ended, only that he could no longer grasp reality at all, that the pleasure was too much, that he didn’t know if he could ever let go of Crowley on his own. It felt like sinking into warm bathwater after a long day, the pleasure acute and overwhelming, too hot, too much, until slowly Aziraphale was drifting, utterly relaxed and at peace with the world. 

They woke up gasping, their bodies tangled together as if they had merely slept peacefully. Aziraphale sneezed, disturbing a few days worth of dust and a few downy feathers. His wings fluffed up and Crowley’s tightened around him, where he was covered with them. It was horribly disorienting to get used to corporeal sensations again, the feeling of warm pillows against his cheek, Crowley’s hands resting over his waist and the movement of air making him feel much too sensitive. They were both breathing hard, and Aziraphale noticed that his legs were sticky, they both were, as if the tether between his corporation and angelic form had received his pleasure and found no other way to respond to it than to make his body experience the corresponding reactions.

“Oh dear,” he whispered, feeling slightly embarrassed. Aziraphale did not sleep at all, save for brief naps for the pleasure of falling asleep in his lover’s arms. He wasn’t used to his body doing things while he wasn’t paying attention to it.

Crowley squinted and hid his face against Aziraphale’s chest, groaning as if he was experiencing a hangover. It had been a bit much after all. There were black and white feathers stuck in his hair.

“How long- how long do you think we were uhm. At it?”

Crowley looked up at Aziraphale with a pitiful expression and Aziraphale very nearly told him to just sleep and worry about it later. Then the demon glanced around them and sniffed the air.

“Feels like a one week nap. Maybe a little more. No longer than two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Aziraphale cried out.

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked at his room. Nothing seemed out of place, and it didn’t look like anything worse had happened than when he was preoccupied with a book for longer than a human could endure.

“Oh dear,” he repeated. A snap of his fingers and the sticky mess between his legs was gone, along with Crowley’s, earning him a grateful sigh.

“Ah, don’t take this the wrong way, my dear. But we shouldn’t- not if this is how long we black out.”

Crowley shook his head with a crooked grin.

“Yeah don’t fancy being out of it without even knowing for how long.”

“Was a little intense.”

“Bit much, yeah.”

“Only something for _very_ special occasions.”

“Think I’d discorporate if we just did that willy nilly all the time.”

“Corporeal pleasure is quite nice and sufficient. Was nice to try it though. Just to try it. Very nice but a little too much, don’t you think?”

Crowley paused at that, and then snorted out a laugh.

“A little bit much is the understatement of the century.”

He tugged Aziraphale down to lie by his side again, facing each other and slowly starting to feel like things were normal. Just another soft moment after engaging in carnal activities.

“Though I gotta say,” Crowley started, his hand coming up to stroke down Aziraphale’s cheek, soft and familiar, a touch now more dear to Aziraphale that he’d experienced it on each set of reality he could access. “If I only had one uh- celestial mingling in me for all of existence? I’m glad it was with you.”

Aziraphale smiled, hands coming up to cup Crowley’s neck as he pulled him closer. To actually feel the touch of real lips against his own was such a simple pleasure, made all the sweeter for knowing that there were other ways to do this.

“My darling, I do believe I feel the same.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wisp is found

Despite his very amorous and indulgent demon to share days with, Aziraphale still spent most of his time by himself, enjoying earthly pleasures and performing minor miracles and blessings where he went, even if his actual assignments were done. It was fine, he did enjoy being alone, taking everything in at his own pace and going about activities he knew for a fact Crowley didn’t enjoy as much. Not to mention the need for secrecy and plausible deniability. He couldn’t be with Crowley _all_ the time, even if nobody was checking in on them.

Crowley had recently also taken up the habit of sleeping far more often and for longer than he used to. He’d not shown up for three solid weeks once, and when Aziraphale went looking he was greeted by a bleary eyed demon with a pillow crease on his cheek, mumbling something incomphrehensible about how the bed was nicer than pulling the short straw and going to Murmansk in winter.

Aziraphale had left him alone after that.

He didn’t enjoy sleep nearly as much as Crowley, but he did feel a little envious of Crowley’s ability to do it so much. He’d been a little tired as of late himself, and blamed it on the quick changes of human society around him. He loved it, he really did, but it was a little hard to keep up with the entire world changing rules and customs and the speed of travel was updating beyond horses! 

Even with society changing it was so much easier to travel with humans these days, no need for difficult journeys on foot and on horrid beasts to ride. Trains that had started to pop up in the last couple decades were quite wonderful, though perhaps a little fast, and now humans were even experimenting with balloons to see if they could fly! Aziraphale could scarcely wait to see what solution they would find to conquer the air. Surely everything else would be worth these changes as well.

His exhaustion and the nagging sensation that society would very soon start moving faster than Aziraphale could keep up with weren’t the only things that bothered him. As the only representative on Earth, Aziraphale didn’t often have to deal with other angels or demons being nearby, so there was no use in trying to let his senses focus on noticing anyone. There was Crowley, of course, but Crowley’s general aura was seeped into London’s streets, each familiar corner they had stood on a pleasant reminder of his dear friend, his presence fiendish but not at all unpleasant. It was a background radiation, one Aziraphale wasn’t even aware of unless he was thinking of his demon and happened to catch a whiff of hellish warmth.

As of late he had begun to notice something else though. At the very edge of his consciousness, a trick of the mind sitting just at the corner of his eye. Sometimes, especially when he was tired, Aziraphale would notice a sudden spark of demonic energy nearby. It wasn’t strong, barely anything more significant than an imp, but it was persistent and happened regardless of where in London he was, and on one memorable occasion when he’d taken a trip south to the shore. It wasn’t Crowley’s, but it blended in with the general sense of demonic presence and humanity’s own uncharitable emotions. As if something very small, or very powerful and imperfectly concealed was following his every step.

Aziraphale tried very hard not to pay it too much mind. He could hold his own against anything Hell had to offer, he wasn’t afraid. But being followed was a threat. Somebody might see what he was up to, try and see what his weaknesses were or thwart his blessings in a way Crowley never even tried more than out of a sense of obligation.

What made it even worse was the very rare, but similar sensation of angelic presence. This one was more akin to startling at the nearby presence of another, just to find that it was merely a twisted reflection of yourself in a window. It was muted, much more so than the demonic presence, but sometimes Aziraphale would feel it. While it was extremely rare, he did know every single angel who might possibly visit Earth where he was, and none of them was _this_.

Spies, then? Angels and demons finally catching on to the Arrangement and how their top agents on Earth were actually working together and defied their orders?

It was worrying that Heaven and Hell apparently had started to spy simultaneously. He would get reprimanded, would perhaps get pulled out of active duty and locked away in some dusty old archive to file away records till kingdom come. Crowley however, would most likely be destroyed by his fellow demons.

Not a thought worth thinking. Just when they had finally settled into a careful Arrangement of another kind, as close to being with Crowley as his lover as Aziraphale could possibly hope for. At least they had stolen moments and private trysts now, even if nothing else was permitted for their own safety. If even their caution hadn’t prevented a detection, then what could they possibly do?

Perhaps it was good then, that Crowley had decided he loved napping more than being conscious for weeks at a time. At least it was easier to keep away and keep a low profile when his paramour wasn’t available.

If Crowley had been awake Aziraphale would have gone to him for comfort, asking him casually if he had felt anything similar. The demon would smile sharply; assure him that everything was fine and that he was mistaken. Make have a perfectly nice explanation for increased demonic activity in the air. Laugh and tease but in the end ease Aziraphale’s worries before promising to keep his eyes out until everything suddenly was quite alright again, with Crowley fixing things behind the scenes so Aziraphale needn’t worry.

Without him there wasn’t much Aziraphale could do to ease his own worries. Good books were always a sure-fire way, but the increasingly exquisite culinary world of London did offer the perfect way to take his mind off things. While not a solution it at least left him in good spirts and feeling emboldened to handle the situation. 

Aziraphale had several little cafes he loved to frequent; restaurants that were so good the food was more than enough to enjoy himself on his own. Going out to eat with Crowley was a rare occurrence, even if the demon was around, but sometimes it was nice to put his entire attention on the delicious morsels before him without worrying that he was a poor conversation partner and neglected his demon as he ate.

Today he visited a small establishment he had frequented on very special occasions for half a century now. They had the most delightful little pastries, even when every other part of the menu changed now and then. It was pretty, the walls a powdered blue and the furniture cream and white, light flooding through it and making it look quite welcoming.

Aziraphale sat down at his favourite seat and took one look at the menu, trying to decide what he wanted. He was feeling like having something with strawberries, knowing that it was just the season for them to be perfectly ripe and tart, and he busied himself with looking at the tea selection.

His eyes landed on one of the more recent additions to London menus, and his nose wrinkled slightly. Hot cocoa had been an invention of the recent years, when some chap had figured out how to make a powder of the beans. The resulting innovations in chocolate were delightful in their creativity, but Aziraphale couldn’t say he liked the drink created by mixing hot milk, sugar, and the powdery substance. It was extremely sweet, very simple in its sugary flavours. As someone who had enjoyed the mixture of ground cocoa beans and chilli right after humans had invented it, Aziraphale just couldn’t help but compare the sweet drink to the marvel of complex spices and layers of flavours he’d tried in America.

Just as Aziraphale was about to move on and decide on a tea, a sudden sense of _needing_ the sweet drink shot through him. He suddenly found his tongue dry, his heart clenching, and his entire body wanting nothing more but to have some of the sweet treat. It was unlike his usual cravings for specific dishes, strangely foreign and simple in its need. And he never did crave such simple things either, it was always the need for a specific sensation, a food that in his memory was tied to a wonderful experience. He had no such feelings for hot cocoa, a drink he’d tried and found merely alright.

_I certainly don’t need such a sweet drink_ , he thought _it would only ruin the experience of eating a wonderfully tart and sweet pastry!_

But the craving didn’t go away, until Aziraphale sighed, quite cross with himself, and ordered the drink. It was as he remembered, nice flavours but altogether too sweet. The craving in his chest turned to a simple delight, and Aziraphale tried not to wonder at his sudden change in opinion. Because he certainly hadn’t changed it, he was still unimpressed despite the joy he was feeling. Perhaps it was just his nature picking up on a nearby human’s sensations? It certainly did feel like a childish enjoyment rather than his usual way of taking in food.

With a vague sense of unease Aziraphale finished his meal and left the café, trying to tell himself that this was fine, that he was merely tired or that his mind was preoccupied with troubling things so his body craved comforts. A noise nearby made him stop, and he glanced up to see a performer surrounded by a small crowd of people. He was showing off some sort of flashy trick with ribbons and hoops, much to the humans’ delight. Aziraphale was about to smile and walk on, when he felt the dual sensation of demonic presence and a sudden inexplicable desire to join in and watch what was about to be shown.

Cold dread settled in as Aziraphale finally realized what it was he was sensing all this time. Suggestion. Just the way when he or Crowley let humans feel like they ought to not take notice or maybe stand over there for a bit or could you be so kind as to forget you were going to enter my bookshop long enough for me to lock the door, there’s a dear.

That somebody was trying to use their powers on an angel was unsettling. That they had apparently succeeded, as small as their success had been, was far worse. Angels and demons couldn’t generally do something like this to each other. Their powers were meant to soothe or agitate humans, very briefly make them do something they would not usually do, though neither could actually take their free will for more than a few moments. It simply didn’t work when used on each other!

Or shouldn’t work, at least.

Aziraphale hurried on towards his bookshop, walking as fast as he could without causing a scene by running through busy streets. Now that he was focusing especially hard and knew that something was trying to get into his mind it was much easier to keep hold of the sensation. He needed to investigate, needed to figure out whether this was just some overly ambitious demon overextending their reach, or whether this was something altogether more sinister. If demons figured out how to mess with angels in this way then Heaven needed to know! After he chewed out Crowley and figured out if this was something his dear friend knew of or was even involved in.

The familiar safety of his bookshop calmed Aziraphale down a little. He took a deep steadying breath and straightened his cravat, ready to take this on. The presence was still with him, shifting right at the edge of his perception. It didn’t seem to shy back at all as Aziraphale looked around the various hidden angelic instruments, the summoning circles and holy objects. It didn’t so much as flinch as Aziraphale grabbed a small silver candle stick with a golden candle and runes inscribed into it.

“Don’t let my corporation fool you,” Aziraphale muttered as he lit a match and carefully waited for the candle’s wick to catch fire as well. “You will see that I am not to be toyed with, fiend!”

The blessed candle flickered in the still air for a moment, and then started to glow just a little bit brighter than a normal flame should have. Aziraphale closed his eyes and stretched out his senses, feeling all of London in his perception. It was a difficult thing to do, focus on the here and now when using such crude instruments. He could feel traces of his own movement, could feel lingering sensations of other angelic beings that had visited him recently, the blessings and damnations peppered across the city where he or Crowley had used their powers.

It was a rather simple way of sensing things, enhancing his senses to suss out any demonic or angelic activity he would otherwise have missed. With his brow furrowed in concentration, Aziraphale honed in on details, the here and now. A brief brush across London showed no easy to spot presence at all, safe for Crowley, who was at his flat just as Aziraphale suspected. His mind circled all across his city, tightening his focus closer and closer until it was only his own bookshop he could sense. There was his own presence, of course, seeped into each nook and cranny of his beloved home. Traces of Crowley were there, barely noticeable and certainly not detectable if somebody wasn’t looking specifically.

And then finally the hints of foreign entity right where he was, something strange and familiar, but not quite so. For a second he was certain that Crowley had mircaled his way inside his home, but it was a weak presence and so tied with his own that it created something entirely new. It wasn’t anything he’d ever felt before, not all the way angelic but certainly not pure demon, just demonic in that it felt like Crowley did when he was nearby. But it was small, much too weak for a celestial being without the shattered edges of a dying presence to explain such a state.

It was very much not human in nature, that much Aziraphale could tell, but it did carry the spring blossom flavours that clung to those little swaddled bundles occasionally seen in the park, just much too angelic to be mistaken for-

A cry of desperate terror fell from Aziraphale’s lips unbidden, tearing him out of his focused state. His hands shook so hard he could barely snap them to extinguish the candle’s flame, and he felt his entire body curl up defensively. His hands fluttered to his stomach, touching it anxiously though he knew his body hadn’t changed in any way he hadn’t wanted it to for quite some time now.

The presence, not quite angelic and not quite demonic, carried with it the same flavours the auras of very young human children held, fresh and entirely new, not shaped by the world at all, safe for the gentle layer of protective love the adults sent their way. It was very similar to what Crowley’s aura felt like when Aziraphale permitted himself to reach out and feel it.

“This is nonsense,” he muttered to himself, hands digging into his stomach. There was nothing there, he knew it.

“You- you are entirely impossible,” he tried again.

Nothing replied, nothing changed. He heaved a calming sigh and stood to make himself tea, shaking from his revelation and deciding that a properly prepared drink would do wonders. He could of course open up the scotch Crowley had gifted him, but that would only make him more nervous once he was properly sloshed and surely anyone in his delicate condition shouldn’t drink anyway.

A distraught little “augh” escaped him and Aziraphale had to close his eyes for a moment. He still needed to figure out how to handle this new information. The tea was prepared with little input from his thoughts, permitting him to try and sort out what was going on.

Of course he knew where children came from, he’d been there to see the very first child happen, and the second as well. But Aziraphale was also absolutely certain that this wasn’t a possibility for him. Yes, of course he and Crowley had occasionally aligned their efforts in ways that could permit such things, but only superficially. As far as Aziraphale knew Crowley’s come was just for show, and he had certainly never let his body have a womb nor did he even know how to make a functional one to begin with. He was also certain that the same had happened when they switched it around, though given that the presence was with him that wasn’t as much of a concern.

Angels couldn’t accidentally sire children with humans, not after the business with the nefilim, but Aziraphale wasn’t sure how to do such a thing on purpose. He was certain that the same went for demons. It occurred to him that perhaps Crowley had something to do with the current situation, but the thought was dismissed immediately. Not only would Crowley have let him know, but he wouldn’t have done such a thing without asking Aziraphale first.

Aziraphale sat in his favourite armchair and sipped his tea pensively, feeling much calmer already. He cast his eyes about the bookshop and tried to think of what to do next. Before he made any decisions on how to deal with this he first needed to confirm his suspicions. A brief moment of inward focus confirmed that his body was indeed unchanged, which complicated the matter somewhat. If the being wasn’t with him in reality then…

He paused for a moment, then closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

“It’s like that, isn’t it?” he asked, feeling a little foolish for talking out loud to himself or a creature he wasn’t even sure existed properly.

The tea cup was set down and he made himself more comfortable for what he was planning to do. With one last deep breath Aziraphale shifted his perception to the side of reality and he was back in the empty golden space.

Everything was as it always was on earth, no other angels were nearby and Aziraphale felt and looked just as he always did. He stretched his wings and looked around, frowning and checking his body for any injuries that he might have overlooked last time he did this. But Crowley had left no mark and he was as unchanging as he always was.

Something thrilled near him, the pluck of a single harp string carrying with it joy and excitement. Aziraphale turned his head and saw something tiny dart along the inside of his outer rings. It was quick as lightning and nothing more than a ball of light, a red gold will-o’-the-wisp, similar in colour to his own body but just a little bit darker and warmer. It rushed towards him, circled his main body with another air light cry, and came to a halt at eye level.

“Oh, look at you,” Aziraphale cooed, reaching out his hands and smiling as the child nudged his palms and settled down. “How long have you been here for my dear?”

The wisp trilled again, shifted in brightness and made a noise as if it tried to speak words. It paused, thinking, and then Aziraphale felt something tug at him as foreign emotions flooded his senses. The wisp could not tell time very well, nor could it properly see what was going on in the world. But it did feel what Aziraphale did, it was aware of human and demonic presences, it knew flavours and scents and soft things Aziraphale had touched and marvelled at. It knew his delight at the first leaves of spring and that there’d been several since it had come to awareness, it knew his affection at Crowley’s presence and wanted to see him, it knew the taste of overly sweet desserts and when Aziraphale went too long without having its favourites it tried with all its might to make him have some.

It knew _him_.

“My darling,” Aziraphale laughed as he cradled the wisp to his chest. “You’re really impossible are you? How was I ever to expect you? I hope you aren’t too upset that it took me so long to notice.”

The wisp whistled and didn’t seem upset at all, instead nudging against Aziraphale’s hands.

The waves of love and affection lulled Aziraphale for a few moments, his wings spreading and fluttering in joy. He had a _child_. Truly, he and Crowley had created something beautiful between them, something impossible and beautiful and theirs and unique, present and non corporeal and somehow real.

“You’re neither an angel nor a demon, are you?” Aziraphale asked the wisp, receiving a vague sense of indifference.

The wisp did not seem to fully grasp the concept. It knew, of course it did. It knew the Almighty, though it had not been touched by Her light the same way all angels did yet, and it knew Heaven and Hell as it had seen this in Aziraphale’s mind. But it didn’t care, it didn’t understand this fully. It was too young, too new.

With a sudden sense of dread Aziraphale pulled the wisp to his chest and curled his wings around his body. Heaven wouldn’t be pleased to know about this, nor would they appreciate how exactly his child had come about. Perhaps they would be curious about such a thing being possible, but Aziraphale felt the instinctive fear that the child being half demonic wouldn’t make the other angels see it with the same benevolence as any other child.

Oh but they would not be pleased with _him_ either. Even if they left his child be, deciding that it was more angelic than anything else and worth leaving alive? Aziraphale would still be punished for his dalliance with a demon.

The wisp didn’t seem to notice the distress tainting his body in a dark grey mist, instead projecting its excitement about getting to see everything the world had to offer firsthand.

Hell would certainly not be pleased with Crowley either but at least Crowley could spin this as a temptation, if he was clever. But Hell wouldn’t be too kind to his child either, too angelic to be theirs. They’d… oh. He couldn’t imagine what they’d do.

Tears ran over Aziraphale’s cheeks, bright gold and tainting his skin and his wings where hundreds of eyes cried at once. His joy was soured quicker than it had spread, torn apart by fear and worry about what would happen to him, to Crowley, to this new-born wonder that shouldn’t have been possible at all. The second anyone at all found out about their child, all three of them would be in danger, would have nowhere to run with both their sides coming down to punish them. He wouldn’t dare think of what Heaven or Hell would do to the wisp either. Cold mercy and disdain for its demonic heritage, cruelty and gleeful control over something at least partially angelic. He didn’t know what was worse.

Not to mention that the wisp had no body of its own at all. Corporations were complicated things. Theoretically, if he focused hard enough Aziraphale might be able to create a fully functioning body for himself, but it would be much like facing an entire warehouse of broken furniture and attempting to construct everything with no plan to consult. It was just too big a feat of creation for an angel. The wisp was too aware to be a new born human, too old already, so trying to do things the human way to create a body wouldn’t do, even if Aziraphale knew how to do _that_. And he absolutely could not let the wisp move around humans in this shape. Even such a tiny ball of light would attract attention and possibly cause visions and divine revelations so strong that Heaven would surely notice.

With a choked sob Aziraphale pressed the thrilling wisp to his face, kissing it softly as it sang its confusion.

“I’m so sorry, my sweetheart.”

In a quick motion the wisp was shoved into the crown of wings on Aziraphale’s head, crying out in protest. Before it could move out of the way the wings shut, caging it in tightly and not budging at all as it pushed against the feathers.

Aziraphale pressed the heels of his palms against his cheeks, wiping at the tears with a shaky sigh.

“I’m sorry, little one, it’s only for a short while, I promise you’ll be out in two shakes of a lamb’s tail. Just as soon as it’s safe for you.”

Which, frankly, might never happen at all.

The betrayed little cries followed Aziraphale as he focused on stepping back into earthly reality. It was for the best, he reminded himself. This way the wisp couldn’t escape on accident, couldn’t get lost in the world. It would also not be sensed by others if Aziraphale only masked it with his own angelic aura enough.

Only a few minutes had passed this time round, with everything being exactly as he had left it. Aziraphale blinked once, finding his cheeks wet in this body as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the thought that Aziraphale would have been able to visit any place on Earth, so why wouldn't he have spent time with the Maya and tried their version of chocolate? Back then the drink made from ground cocoa seeds and various spices, not sweet at all and apparently an acquired taste. Even when it came to Europe chocolate wasn't immediately seen as something sweet, it was an expensive ingredient that only started to be sweetened in the 17th century. 
> 
> I actually went to look up when exactly cocoa powder was created, and it was 1828, which is exactly right for the time line of this fic. I couldn't resist after that. Since it's something so new Aziraphale hasn't gotten around to enjoying it yet, especially since hot cocoa is a sweet milky version of something he would have known as a cold spicy drink for thousands of years.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So who wanted Crowley to find out

Aziraphale sat in a club, staring out of the window with a tiny cup of tea forgotten before him, half-heartedly warmed up and abandoned over and over. He had quite enjoyed the coffee here before, but now the flavour sent a foreign shiver of disgust through him. Unwilling to upset the being trapped within his wings any more than he already had, Aziraphale had opted to avoid it altogether.

The sky was blue, though the delicate lace curtains tainted it grey, filtering out the sun and letting a strange light fall into the room. The beauty of the day was drained of all saturation by the gorgeous material, and part of Aziraphale wanted to tear it down, push it out of the way entirely. But he knew that his own morose thoughts would not be helped by such actions at all.

A member of the serving staff approached the table silently and left a note before retreating again. It was a fine black paper and Aziraphale didn’t need to check who it was from. He gathered his things and left, the note turning to ash in his hands as he left the building, not leaving behind any evidence.

Crowley was waiting by one of their usual meeting spots, a small secluded piece of path right by the pond. Most humans ignored them there, and the ducks were always quick to arrive in expectation of treats. He looked as beautiful as ever, the sun making his glasses shine and his hair look as if it was caught on fire.

The suits of the day were quite dashing on Crowley, and he cut a sharp figure in the ridiculously tailored coat that he used miracles to pull on and off, unable to shrug it on without assistance otherwise. It never failed to make Aziraphale’s heart flutter, though today it also gave him a pang of anxiety. He hadn’t seen Crowley since his discovery, as they had both been so terribly busy recently.

A smile spread on Crowley’s lips as he saw Aziraphale approach, quickly shifting into a smirk lest anyone accuse him of undue affections.

“Long time no see,” he greeted and Aziraphale took his spot by his side.

“I assume we’ve both been busy,” he replied, a tight smile on his lips that Crowley tilted his head at.

“Got unpleasant tasks from upstairs?”

“Oh, nothing of the sort,” Aziraphale assured him, thinking back to the past weeks of distress and how to best explain how worried he’d been about being discovered without first breaching the subject of- 

“Just handling Heavenly supervision, you know how it is.”

Crowley looked at him for a few moments and then shrugged.

“Guess we all have to deal with management. Don’t worry about it, they just like feeling more important than you. I’ve had some trouble with Hell recently. Nothing serious. Just breathing down my neck about reports and all that.”

Aziraphale looked at him for a few moments, unpleasant images of what Hell would do to Crowley and their wisp if they ever found out crossing his mind. He tore his eyes away from him, trying desperately to chase the thoughts off. Ducks were swimming peacefully across the pond, along with several swans, tiny fluffy balls of grey down sitting in between the wings of most of them.

“Anyway, is there anything else going on for you?” Crowley asked. “If not, I’ve got this temptation coming up in Oslo and if you need anything done in the area, I thought I’d offer.”

Aziraphale stared up at the sky for a few moments, face carefully schooled into a neutral expression.

“Thank you, I’ll let you know if something comes up. But you know me. Nothing out of the ordinary going on with me.”

*

That night Aziraphale clung to Crowley harder than he usually did, hands digging into his skin as if he could somehow hold his demon close regardless of belonging to Heaven and Hell. He gasped under his touches and Crowley paused as they rocked together, sniffing the air briefly.

He buried his face against Aziraphale’s neck, breathing in, hands cradling Aziraphale’s body with such tenderness that it stole his breath.

“You smell lovely,” Crowley got out, voice rough but tone oh so gentle.

For one terrifying second Aziraphale wondered if his aura had changed enough for Crowley to sniff it out, but then Crowley was kissing him and the moment passed, leaving Aziraphale feel cherished and completely alone.

*

Hiding the changes in his aura and habits from Crowley was surprisingly easy. The demon didn’t seem to think much of Aziraphale’s taste changing in certain things, that he was starting to avoid casually consuming bitter drinks or that he developed a sweet tooth stronger than before. Crowley’s lips would just twitch in a smile as he watched Aziraphale dither over menus and displays of fine desserts, just ordered tarts and sweet treats and sliding them over to the angel. He subtly adjusted the liquors and wine he’d bring along for Aziraphale, going for milder flavours. If all of that registered as connected it wasn’t anything he deemed suspicious enough to comment on, and Aziraphale had to repeatedly tell himself that all these changes only seemed drastic in his own eyes as he knew the root cause.

The wisp enjoyed the glimpses of the human world it could experience through Aziraphale, through it cried and complained loud enough that Aziraphale could occasionally feel it without focusing. It couldn’t influence him anymore, now that he knew what it was doing. His adjusted tastes were more the strong suggestion of a child begging for treats, which honestly was the least he could do after how cruelly he had hidden it away. There was no way to explain why it was necessary for the wisp’s survival, as it barely had a concept of mortality.

Sometimes Aziraphale would spend an evening just focusing on it, trying to figure it’s personality out. He couldn’t really remember what he was like before creation was completed, when he was new and pure as driven snow. Knowing everything that was to be but not quite understanding or being able to place emotions and pictures to what the Almighty was doing. The wisp seemed similar, in that it had a vague idea and knowledge of how the world worked, but wasn’t able to grasp it in a way that was useful or made any sense at all.

It did know about Heaven and Hell, and that its father was a demon, but it didn’t have any experiences or emotions attached to either concept. Heaven was where Aziraphale was from, but it had no strong feelings about it. It didn’t evoke the same feelings in it as the bookshop, and Hell was a fear it didn’t understand either. That either could destroy its parents was something it acknowledged when Aziraphale tried to explain why it was hidden away, but didn’t cause it to react in fear.

The strain of the situation, the worry, the guilt over keeping the wisp hidden, slowly started seeping into Aziraphale’s regular mood. He was tense in the stupidest moments, unable to put everything out of his mind for long stretches of time. The general paranoia of somebody catching wind of everything and swooping in to destroy him and everything he held dear didn’t exactly help either. Crowley, bless him, picked up on that at least.

“Has your management been giving you trouble?” Crowley asked one night, gently rubbing Aziraphale’s arm as he reclined against the angel, newspaper in his lap as Aziraphale tried to read a book.

“Nothing of the sort, my dear. Just the usual caution.”

Crowley looked up at him, upside down from where his head rested in Aziraphale’s lap, eyes bare and earnest.

“It’s been more than the usual caution,” he said, slowly, tone gentle and careful. As if he expected Aziraphale to spook and snap at him. Really, Aziraphale always did, when Crowley talked poorly of Heaven too much. It wasn’t Crowley’s place to do so, his side worked for evil, trying to undo everything good Heaven tried to bring to humanity.

Aziraphale had committed transgressions that Heaven could and would not forgive in loving Crowley and unwittingly creating a half angel child. It wasn’t Heaven’s fault that he could not bear the punishment for this, it didn’t mean they were wrong about everything else as well.

“Ah,” Aziraphale said slowly. “Well… There’s been so many thorough reviews lately, more questions about my reports than normal. Nothing serious, it’s just a little stressful you know.”

Crowley looked at him for a few moments more before averting his eyes. It was hard to break eye contact with him when faced with the full force of that uncovered yellow, so Aziraphale nearly breathed a sigh of relief when the scrutiny moved on.

“If they try anything, I’ll do my duty to thwart them,” Crowley said quietly. “You won’t be punished on my watch, and you won’t leave Earth unless you want to.”

Crowley had done something, once, halting Aziraphale’s promotion back into Heaven. He didn’t know the details, and of course Aziraphale couldn’t possibly be grateful that a demon had interfered in Heaven’s internal affairs but… it had been awfully kind of him.

“I know, darling,” Aziraphale said gently, daring to rest a hand on Crowley’s head. “I know you’ll make sure we’re safe.”

Crowley flushed and muttered something vague, and Aziraphale felt his heart clench with the knowledge that Crowley had no idea the “we” had grown by one.

*

Visiting Heaven was sadly unavoidable. It was rare - perhaps happening every other century at best - but Aziraphale knew that eventually he’d have to face other angels while carrying his secret around with him. He’d hoped that it would be another century or so, but with no real chance of the situation resolving in sight it had been inevitable.

Heaven was cool and quiet, a perfect white and pale blue, illuminated by a clear white light that humans hadn’t yet managed to bring into their own buildings. Aziraphale swallowed his nervousness as he walked past angels who paid him little mind other than nodding in acknowledgement. Everyone had their own business and Aziraphale tried hard not to slow his steps as he walked towards Gabriel’s office.

The Archangels all had their own beautiful space, a suite befitting angels of their rank, with wide rooms and floor to ceiling windows to allow a view over the world. Gabriel sat at a massive desk made of pale solid wood, with neat stacks of paper in front of him. He was wearing a very tightly cut coat, exactly going with the fashion of the day though the shade of pale lavender was slightly unusual.

“Aziraphale!” he greeted, smiling widely. “Wonderful of you to join me. Just the usual here. New guidelines for the coming years.”

He tapped his finger against the file closest to him, not waiting for Aziraphale to say anything.

“Amazing work as usual, always timely with direct assignments, love to see that,” Gabriel went on, flipping through the pages as if he hadn’t memorized everything in there. “I like the direction of inspiring charity work and sympathy for the fellow man. That will secure us a lot of souls in the coming decades if your reports predicted everything right. All in line with our observations. Cutting down on frivolous miracles as well! Always good to see critique being taken well.”

Aziraphale managed a smile, squashing the guilt he’d felt at omitting details from his usual careful record of miracles. Crowley had talked him into it, and if he could avoid terrible situations by… well, omission wasn’t lying, Crowley had insisted. He was merely not mentioning all the tiny things that made life on Earth more convenient.

“You know me, I’m always aiming to be the best Heaven could ask for.”

Gabriel stood and walked around the desk to clasp Aziraphale’s shoulder briefly, making him try and hide a flinch.

“Of course! Let us go join the others for-”

He trailed off, his violet eyes unfocusing for a moment as he stared at Aziraphale with a confused frown. Angelic presence brushed against Aziraphale’s skin in a way that wasn’t normal, even for Heaven, and he recognized the gift of searching. His heart stuttered in panic, the reminder of the Archangel before him possessing powers and intuitions above others too much, the wings on another level of existence clenching down flat to shield their contents from view..

“You seem off,” Gabriel said with a blink, eyes coming back into focus. “There’s that weird… gentle anticipation thing in your aura. You know, like when humans are about to have more humans.”

He waved his hand vaguely, and peered at Aziraphale curiously.

“Oh,” Aziraphale let out, blinking up at Gabriel in what he hoped would convey his own confusion. “Does that human presence really stick to me? Oh dear. You see, I’ve been doing some work influencing humans into building better hospitals, maternity wards and the lot. Trying to establish better care to welcome little ones into the world so that their start in life already puts them in our favour.”

Gabriel looked at him for a moment longer, searching, but then he nodded.

“And this is why you’re our best angel on the job! Going above and beyond to ensure success even with the side effects.”

He pulled a face and muttered something about humanity being a hard smell to wash off, then opened the door, gesturing for Aziraphale to follow him. The explanation had been enough for him and Aziraphale carefully reminded his lungs that he didn’t actually need to breathe, forcing them into a steady rhythm despite his urge to succumb to panic. He was a soldier, a guardian, he could lock away his own emotions while there was something to protect. There would always be more time for that later, when he wasn’t surrounded by the entirety of the Heavenly Host with something so precious hidden in his wings.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The centuries progress and the wisp is growing older

The wisp let out shrill little cries of disgruntlement each time Aziraphale closed up his shop, settled into his armchair, and shifted into the sideways reality where it was trapped. He couldn’t permit it to escape, ignoring the tugging at his crown of wings as it tried to get out day by day. The closer the wisp was nestled against his feathers the less of its own presence would seep out of Aziraphale’s shield and into the human world. It couldn’t exactly leave further than the outer reaches of Aziraphale’s rings anyway, with nowhere to go and no corporation to enter reality properly.

Aziraphale was far from a good parent, both through circumstance and his own lack of knowledge, but it wouldn’t do to neglect the wisp completely. He would visit it, so to speak, and do it often enough that the wisp seemed pacified by the time they spent truly in each other’s presence. It would complain and hiss, much like a snake did, and when it was particularly emotional it trailed something akin to a flame behind it, very similar to Crowley’s own trail of starlight dragging after his celestial form.

“My darling, you wouldn’t have liked it outside right now,” Aziraphale told it as he watched the wisp tug at the feathers of his pair of wings. It seemed to have discovered a bounciness to the feathers that served as a playground for now, and Aziraphale tolerated the mild discomfort happily. He owed it that much

“It’s so very cold and it’s not snowing either, there’s just this half rain half ice situation. If you’re anything like Crowley you won’t like winter very much.”

The wisp paused and seemed to look over at him, before skipping on to the innermost ring, skating along its edge. At the very least Aziraphale’s celestial body offered entertainment enough, and the angel sighed quietly.

In the last decade the wisp had started to learn more and more about the world at large. Had learned that Heaven was to be approached with caution, though it struggled to reconcile Aziraphale’s fear and the stubborn reverence that permitted no questioning of the Host. It was so like Crowley that way. It recognized Aziraphale’s affection for everything around them, and seemed delighted when Crowley approached and it noticed his proximity. 

Recently Aziraphale had started to pick up a kind of love coming from it that was absolutely foreign to him, a kind of devotion and affection that was similar but completely different from his own feelings towards the Almighty. He supposed it was normal for the wisp to develop emotions towards something Aziraphale had no concept of, as he’d come into existence with all the others and no parents to speak of.

He knew this sort of easy trust and love, the comfort that couldn’t be shaken by its anger at being kept from the world. It was the same flare of anger Aziraphale felt from children when their human parents pulled them out of danger they couldn’t yet recognize, simple unrefined emotions from a being that hadn’t yet lived long enough to fully grasp some of the world’s complex feelings. When the initial flare of anger was gone the love was still there, steady as always. 

It was startling to feel such a specific brand of love, it startled Aziraphale to feel it so purely from his wisp. Angels weren’t meant to be parents, they didn’t get such a strong sense of childish affection from any one being. That the wisp still cared for him, and for Crowley, despite how poorly the former was forced to treat it and how the latter had not even met it, was a dizzying sensation. As overwhelming as the brief moments Aziraphale could feel hints of Crowley’s unguarded affection, just as horrible to contemplate being without. 

In his weaker moments he would imagine what it would be like to have all three of them together. It was, Aziraphale knew, a very silly kind of indulgence. But he couldn’t help remembering Crowley’s celestial form every time he visited the wisp, though he hadn’t seen the demon’s since that fateful night. The wisp would love darting along his serpentine body just as it did with Aziraphale’s rings, and it would certainly enjoy Crowley’s presence. The demon was quite good with children, being able to build a rapport much easier than Aziraphale with his awkward stiffness. There was no question about whether or not he’d enjoy being around a child of his own.

And oh! Corporations probably didn’t work that way, but Aziraphale couldn’t help but imagine their wisp looking quite a bit like its parents, should it end up with a body of its own. Would it have Crowley’s eyes, he wondered? Perhaps Aziraphale’s downy white hair? The mental image of a tiny child dressed in a proper suit as was the fashion of the day, with tiny sunglasses to match Crowley’s was something that thrilled Aziraphale to no end. This was swiftly followed by the image of Crowley with a little child looking and dressed exactly like him, which caused Aziraphale to snort in an undignified manner.

There was no end date, no possible way of knowing when his secret could be revealed. But wasn’t it nice to imagine a future in which the wisp could stop hiding away between his wings and meet its father? Bittersweet as this impossibility was, it did warm Aziraphale’s heart each night he spent away from Crowley. He couldn’t even see his would-be love all that often, their affair highly dangerous to them both, and yet the idea of raising a child together was one he entertained way too much. Perhaps it was merely the fact that he hadn’t had several thousands of years to worry about that situation already.

Things weren’t perfect. Of course they weren’t. They were as close to it as an angel, a demon, and their strange child could possibly get however. They were good, they were each enjoying as much human freedom as they could. Crowley and Aziraphale both had more work than in the previous century and saw each other a little less when it came to social calls for pleasure, but they did see each other. The wisp calmed its attempts to claw its way out and into view. Aziraphale’s human life was happy and comfortable and he had nestled into his bookshop quite well.

So when Crowley asked for holy water out of nowhere, Aziraphale’s neat little bubble of joy burst into nothingness, leaving him only with the dread of existence.

“It would destroy you,” Aziraphale breathed, his heart suddenly beating too fast and not at all in quick succession. A dread that was not his own screamed in his mind, somewhere, muffled in the down of his feathers.

Crowley was talking, and Aziraphale couldn’t process it, couldn’t think clearly other than the horrible thought of his demon being erased from existence with one splash of water. Just like that. He hadn’t even got to meet their wisp for Heaven’s sake!

It was all too much, too cruel and hurtful and words were flung about that he truly shouldn’t have said. Words that cut through his essence when Crowley spat them back. It was like a physical knife, cutting through his chest and deep into the very core of him, destroying his wings and his celestial body just as well.

The wisp screamed in distress as Aziraphale stormed off towards the bookshop, crying and begging to be let out. It wasn’t the same as before, when it simply showed anger over not being allowed out and about. By now it had accepted that Heaven would be displeased with it, though it didn’t understand. This was different, this was desperate fear and attempts to force Aziraphale to do something, to go back and plead with Crowley, to make the demon promise to not even try to get holy water.

Aziraphale shivered and barely managed to break down on his favourite armchair before he paused.

“I won’t let him get hurt,” he promised, focusing his words inwards. He couldn’t face his wisp right now, too shaken from the mere idea of Crowley being wiped out of existence. Not punished, not locked away in some deep hellish dungeon. Just gone.

The wisp cried out in his mind, truly feeling the terror of seeing some it loved destroyed for the first time. Aziraphale felt thick tears rolling down his cheeks in turn. He sat alone in his bookshop and cried for them both, his heart breaking in ways he didn’t know humans could endure.

*

Aziraphale felt colder, somehow, without the presence of his demon. He knew Crowley was out there, doing someone knew what. Sleeping, using his wiles where Aziraphale couldn’t interfere and do his duty in thwarting him.

In nearly a century of their affair, he had grown used to Crowley’s touch, his soft smiles and his yellow eyes. It was all his, the best kind of comfort that nobody else could give, the pleasure of Crowley’s company better than anything Earth had to offer and making it all the more enjoyable. The best cake, the best book, the pleasure of learning how to dance and befriending the most curious humans, it all seemed dulled somehow. He could be having a grand old time, cheeks flushed in pleasure and smile so wide his cheeks ached with it. Then he would think of how he couldn’t wait to tell Crowley all about it and have the demon watch him fondly. And remember that it would not happen. It did put quite a damper on things.

The wisp wasn’t pleased about it either. It ranted and hissed at Aziraphale nearly every time he tried to have some good bonding time with it, refusing to face him or ignoring him altogether. Occasionally it would demand that he go and find Crowley, but Aziraphale couldn’t very well do that now. They hadn’t reconciled, and even if he wanted to make the first move in making him, Crowley had taken obvious care in avoiding Aziraphale. He wasn’t hiding his whereabouts, being easy to track down as always, so the demon wasn’t looking for him either.

He hadn’t realized just how much Crowley’s presence had pacified the wisp. How happy it had been, and how it had behaved much better when Aziraphale had spent a little time with the demon. Perhaps it was sensing something at least partially hellish, perhaps it was the recognition of its father, but the wisp had calmed each time, grown less agitated in its annoyance of the situation.

Now it was all different. It wasn’t trying to leave, but it was upset, and hurt, and frightened in turn. At the very least Aziraphale could reassure it that Crowley was in fact doing well, which pacified it but not by much. It had never been able to truly meet Crowley, but now it couldn’t even do so by proxy.

It certainly gave Aziraphale some sympathy for the parents of characters in books he loved, raising their children all by themselves. He didn’t even have the vindication of knowing that Crowley was a bastard who had left them knowingly, as he’d never told him about the wisp. No, Aziraphale couldn’t tell anyone about this particular aspect of missing Crowley. Not that there was anyone he could talk to about the demon at all. Only a few of his friends at discrete clubs nodded in sympathy when his wayward lover was brought up. They wouldn’t have understood the situation with the wisp either, so Aziraphale was left silent.

At the very least he now could keep the wisp safer. It was growing, very slowly but steadily. It was no trouble at all to keep it between the wings of his crown, but Aziraphale did worry about what things would be like in a century or two. By then it might grow strong enough to be detected despite his best attempts. For now a lack of contact with Crowley meant that he couldn’t be punished for fraternizing, and in turn accidentally reveal the wisp. Though the demon’s absence felike like a physical wound, it was safer for all of them to be apart. 

Without a demonic presence to tip anyone off there was little that could harm him and his little miracle. He simply had to make sure not to let it leave, and very little could possibly go wrong.

Of the things that _could_ go wrong, staring down the barrel of a gun was quite high on the list though.

Aziraphale stood alone in a church, surrounded by two Nazis and a traitor, facing the very real possibility of painful discorporation. He’d never been killed, he wasn’t sure how much pain such an event would bring to him. What was worse though, was that losing his body would mean being stuck in Heaven for some time, far beyond the initial hurt of losing his body. While he would not entirely be in his celestial form, his shape would be much closer to that, the barrier a whisper of a veil. It would mean near inevitable detection of the wisp. Discorporation simply wasn’t something he could allow, for his wisp’s sake. That he hadn’t considered this before being held at gunpoint, had made no plans to prevent such a thing, really went to show how little Aziraphale knew about handling his current predicament. 

That Crowley would just happen to saunter in, beautiful in the modern cut suit, casual as if he wasn’t in excruciating pain, just to save them… He might have kept Aziraphale from a great deal of pain and paperwork, but he certainly prevented their wisp from being destroyed. There was no way to tell how the love Aziraphale felt didn’t drown the whole city at that moment.

Despite their falling out Crowley was as gentle and kind as ever, brushing off Aziraphale’s gratitude and handing him his books like it was nothing. They were important to the angel, and not even decades of fighting erased the easy way in which Crowley ensured that he was happy, that he had what he wanted. Aziraphale could only sigh out a breath as he watched Crowley climb down to the shiny car that stood a little away from the destroyed church, clearly still aching from each step but hiding it with the sway of his hips.

That being with his demon was now more impossible than ever was a cruel trick of the great plan, it seemed.

“Beautiful car,” Aziraphale commented, blushing slightly as Crowley opened the passenger side door for him. Crowley’s face split in a proud grin, the same happiness Aziraphale felt when thinking about his shop clear in the expression.

“Got her brand new. Best machine money could buy,” he announced proudly and sat behind the wheel to turn on the engine.

The drive was smooth and steady, much faster than Aziraphale was used to from carriages. He’d never actually gotten around to riding in a car before, but Crowley seemed to drive just fine through the empty streets of London, avoiding any debris and roadblocks as if they hadn’t been there to begin with.

Aziraphale clutched his books tight and tried to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. That Crowley still cared for him was without question, but was that semblance of affection still there? The unspoken love that had driven them together in an ill-thought-out dalliance? He ached for it, had missed Crowley’s touch and his presence, his half affectionate words whispered in quiet moments.

But oh… he couldn’t risk it now, could he? Not with the wisp growing stronger and being in danger of discovery. It wasn’t just his own safety Aziraphale had to take into account.

Before he knew it, they pulled up by the bookshop, sooner than Aziraphale had expected.

“Here you are,” Crowley said waving at the dark windows of the shop.

They both stared at it for a few moments, tension creeping in where it had been familiar comfort before. Aziraphale suddenly felt very keenly how this would have gone before. He would invite Crowley in, offer him a drink and maybe a rest to take care of his burned feet. He’d huff and flutter around the demon, making sure to thank him for the rescue. There’d be some coy flirting, and then kisses, they’d fall into each others’ arms and most likely into bed, celebrating the rescue and making up for the decades of wilful separation. It would be soft and desperate and reassuring to be reunited, to be back to how things had been before, to have as much of each other as they could possibly take.

But things had changed, and though Aziraphale yearned he knew that the risk was far too great. He’d been foolish, to think that they might get away with their affair. Even Crowley knew of the dangers, was willing to take something that might kill him permanently as protection. How could Aziraphale stand by and do the easy thing and put them both at risk? Crowley would absolutely get hurt trying to protect what they had, and Aziraphale could not risk discovery at all.

“I am very glad that you were in the area,” Aziraphale said gently, trying to keep the pain from his voice. “I really should get going now, yes? Books to check for damage, shop to keep. You know how it is. Have a good night, my dear boy.”

Crowley breathed in, lips parted briefly. The hurt and disappointment was coming off of him in waves and Aziraphale firmly shut his heart against it. He mustn’t waver, for both their sakes.

“Yeah, right,” Crowley replied, smiling that sad smile of his. As if he understood, as if Aziraphale’s decisions really were more important than his own happiness, his own heart. “Good night, angel.”

Aziraphale hurried out of the car and did his best not to look as Crowley started the engine after a moment of hesitation. He didn’t turn until he had opened the door and Crowley was far enough away not to see, and only then Aziraphale snuck a glance. All at once he felt as if they had really broken apart now. It wasn’t like the fight over the holy water at all. They wouldn’t get to hold each other again, or kiss and whisper words of affection. Not until Kingdom Come for sure, and even then it would be quite difficult to figure out.

With a shuddering sigh Aziraphale locked away that little bit of hurt in his heart, and stepped into the sanctuary of his shop.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> holy water once more, and the Dowling years

It was difficult to be around Crowley now. For a century they had such an easy way, the excitement of an affair and the secrecy had seemed like a game. They could touch and be together as much as their hearts desired, even if they couldn’t be open about or say anything compromising at all.

Now they were stiff, awkward in ways that hadn’t been in millennia. Aziraphale maintained a careful distance, not allowing himself to be around Crowley too much. They would meet in public or not at all, always where lots of humans were close together and it wouldn’t be too strange to be seen. Crowley at least seemed to enjoy that aspect of it, coming up with good meeting places and excuses to be in the same place. But there was a sadness in him now, that melancholic compassion when he looked at Aziraphale and knew that the angel was pulling up barriers or acted less familiar than they were.

After knowing each other as closely as celestial beings possibly could the contrast was striking. It was nearly impossible to keep his composure around Crowley, but somehow Aziraphale managed.

“Is Heaven looking over your shoulder more?” Crowley asked one day as they exchanged information on upcoming missions and divided up who did what.

“There certainly could be a little less scrutiny, yes,” Aziraphale dared admit. It wasn’t really a lie, he told himself. Heaven hadn’t really changed how it acted around him from when he still could have Crowley to himself, the stakes had merely been raised higher than he could gamble with.

He hated how Crowley reacted to anything heavenly, didn’t like judgement and knew that he couldn’t possibly allow a demon to have such opinions about Heaven. About Heaven’s treatment of Aziraphale specifically. Yet he couldn’t deny that Crowley was right.

Heaven was quite awkward these days. The first time Aziraphale saw one of the angels around him pause and sniff the air he knew for a fact that Crowley’s scent wasn’t clinging to him. So to hear the angels say that there was something evil in the air made Aziraphale’s smile twitch with quiet fury.

It was the wisp they smelled, he knew that, even as he came up with excused about trying to better a bunch of particularly terrible humans. The wisp, who he knew to be quite a sweet little thing, a creature that wasn’t an angel but certainly wasn’t _evil_. It had never even been near Hell, it’s demonic energies were neutral, in a way. That the angels would feel it and declare it evil was an injustice Aziraphale couldn’t put into words.

They were _right_ to declare a half demonic being evil, of course, that was right for Heaven to do. But the wisp _wasn’t_. It wasn’t any more evil than any human child. It wasn’t evil just as Crowley surely couldn’t be evil to the core, for all the low grade suffering he caused wherever he went. It hadn’t even gotten to make choices yet! 

But denying that a half demonic being was inherently bad, just as its fully demonic father wasn’t any more evil than his choices was wrong. It went against everything Heaven stood for, against everything Hell stood for either. They weren’t humans, with free will and the option to choose how their soul developed. Angels and demons simply… were.

The wisp didn’t understand the torment this caused, or why Aziraphale felt so terrible for refusing to see it as something bad.

It had grown in the years Crowley hadn’t been around, had quietened and stopped demanding Aziraphale to do things quite so frequently. It was delighted to have its father back, to sense Crowley’s presence brush against Aziraphale’s. In the years since it had slowly wrapped its mind around the need for secrecy, around the idea that both it and its parents would get terribly hurt if things came to light. It still didn’t fully understand the ramifications, couldn’t quite understand the horror Aziraphale privately felt when thinking of Crowley’s destruction. And really, he hoped it never would.

It was a night after seeing his superiors in Heaven, after hearing the pitying comments on being among humans so much that evil clung to him. Aziraphale wasn’t rebellious at all, he was an angel and he would never dare act in ways that would make him Fall. The hurt of his child being insulted so was stark after he returned, and he couldn’t help the little spark of vindictive satisfaction as he miracled up a thermos.

Holy water was a substance humans could create all by themselves, a protection against demonic forces that they weren’t even fully aware of these days. It could very well be lethal to a demon, if done properly. Heaven did have access to much more potent variations, ones that were without doubt effective and created correctly. The effect of real holy water was the same, either way. Holy water created by an angel however, could not be stopped, would be deadly at even just a drop. An extremely lucky demon could survive human made holy water with terrible injury, if hit by very little and on a non vital part of their body. There was no such luck to be had if true heavenly blessing was in the water.

He wasn’t supposed to do it, wasn’t supposed to have holy water that wasn’t accounted for. Without authorization it was a dangerous thing to do, but Aziraphale poured all his love and divinity into the thermos with the water, praying over it and watching it shine for a brief moment before it looked just like any other liquid once more. If Crowley wanted to use this on demons there’d be no escape for the poor sods. Granted, there would be no escape for Crowley either if he so much as touched the wet lid with his bare hands.

Aziraphale wiped it off carefully, making sure the thermos had not even a hint of moisture on it. The wisp woke in his mind and noticed what was going on as Aziraphale tucked the thermos under his arm and walked out the door. He had never heard it so panicked, its attempts to break out and force Aziraphale’s body so desperately. There was no way the wisp could possess him, of course, no matter how strong it was.

It knew, knew that Aziraphale was carrying something that could kill Crowley, something that might even harm the wisp, there was no way to test this without risk. It knew that Aziraphale had feared Crowley might use the holy water on himself, and though Aziraphale tried to reassure it that this would not happen, it couldn’t be soothed. That Aziraphale was carrying something like this, despite decades of worry, was beyond it.

Aziraphale felt the dissonant chord of its panic in his bones as he found the Bentley and shifted into it just as Crowley was about to start the engine. There was no way to explain to the wisp that this was for the best, that Crowley would do something very stupid to get at the water in other ways. Aziraphale already felt on edge handing over something so precious and destructive to Crowley, and with their child’s cries in his soul…

Handing over the thermos felt like ripping his heart from his chest and making Crowley promise not to destroy it wordlessly. It was the holiest thing outside Heaven right now, made powerful through Aziraphale’s love. A power that could destroy the thing he had held dear above all else when really he ought not have loved Crowley at all.

“Please don’t break me,” he had wanted to say, and it was all that Aziraphale could do to escape from Crowley’s hidden eyes, from the rejection he was responsible for.

How had it come to this, him fleeing the chance of even just a lovely evening with no ulterior motives, when Aziraphale still so vividly remembered how Crowley felt like in his arms?

Aziraphale returned to his bookshop, his hands itching to run back and take the thermos. He knew it was pointless though, this was by far the safest option he had. The wisp had screamed itself to exhaustion in his head, and as he sat down to see it the wisp would not come out of hiding. For the first time in its existence it refused to speak to him at all, refused to even come out of Aziraphale’s crown of wings. It had felt Aziraphale’s decision to give Crowley the one thing that could utterly destroy him, and it could not forgive such a thing.

“He will be safe, I promise you,” Aziraphale tried, but the wisp didn’t say a word. It was the first day of the quietest decades of Aziraphale’s life. Where once he’d relished the quiet, hearing nothing more than an upset thrill for months at a time was truly the last thing he could have wanted.

*

Four decades of the wisp giving him the cold shoulder ended with a bang, just as Crowley broke their enforced separation by announcing the imminent end of the world. There was no way they could keep up their polite distance as they had to collaborate on preventing everything from ending in some grand old war.

“We would be godfathers,” Aziraphale said with those beloved yellow eyes bare in front of him for the first time in years.

He couldn’t help the smile at that thought. How much had he yearned for that impossible scenario of him and Crowley raising a child together? Yes, this was all to make sure the Antichrist wouldn’t bring on Armageddon, but it was still as close as they could get, surely? Just to be father figures to a child, raise it to be in perfect balance. It was more than Aziraphale could have asked for.

The emotions regarding the matter were strong enough for the wisp to notice and rear its head from the perpetual moping it had taken on. Aziraphale had even caught it at sleeping for unnaturally long periods, just like Crowley. It noticed Aziraphale’s joy, saw why, and thus began the enduring spike of anger and childish jealousy in Aziraphale’s mind, stuck there like a piece of fruit skin between your teeth that you couldn’t quite reach with the tip of your tongue.

Crowley took over as Nanny in the Dowling estate, and Aziraphale joined as a gardener. Young master Warlock was a normal child, as far as Aziraphale could tell with his limited experience in the raising of humans. He felt his heart do funny things as he watched Crowley cradle the baby in her arms, listened to her voice croon lullabies that were rather demonic though they sounded sweet enough. They’d meet up and he’d bounce the boy on his lap as Crowley recounted everything she had noticed about his development, occasionally reaching over to speak to the baby. They were such an uneven pair, especially with their disguise, but it felt like having a family.

Aziraphale would smile at Crowley through his newly made crooked teeth and she would give him the tiniest smirk, her eyes warm and loving in ways that weren’t permitted for them. Then he would retreat to his cottage and try not to wince at the wisp cry out in anger and tear at his feathers as much as it could. HIs wings ached and itched and he couldn’t even begrudge it, given as it was witnessing a stranger get something Aziraphale had denied it.

He bore the discomfort and accusations with a pained smile, never once letting Crowley know that he was feeling strange in any way at all. He deserved it.

Their time with the Antichrist was the closest Aziraphale would ever get to the family life he wanted with Crowley. He could pretend that everything was as it should be, that they would prevent the end of the world and then… He wasn’t entirely sure what would happen then. Go back to normal, most likely, go back to never having hope of Heaven and Hell patching up things enough for their relationship to be permitted.

They met in Aziraphale’s cottage or Crowley’s room close to Warlock’s own, where they would discuss their progress in hushed whispers and drink wine. Every Friday one of them would join the other, and Aziraphale snuck through the manor with the soft suggestion to the bodyguards and staff that he wasn’t there at all. It was easy to make humans ignore him if he needed them to.

The steps to Crowley’s room were familiar, and he always felt a soft twinge of guilt and thrill of doing something so forbidden. Aziraphale couldn’t help it, he got caught up in dramatics and the stories. Him, a gardener, sneaking to his beloved’s room in the great manor? He ought not be near Crowley either way, but now he was seemingly carrying out an affair with the nanny as well.

Nothing untoward was happening, of course, he couldn’t allow it. Crowley was too focused on the job as well, the yearning in her eyes never once addressed. The most that happened in those days was the times Aziraphale snuck into Crowley’s room to find her sprawled out on her bed, snoring quietly. Dressed down to just a shirt and skirt, sensible shoes tossed carelessly onto the floor. She looked so vulnerable then, delicate in ways Aziraphale never got to see Crowley anymore.

He would quietly bless her then, wish her sweet dreams after the exhaustion of putting a toddler to bed. The most Aziraphale allowed himself was to sit by Crowley’s side, one hand on her stocking clad ankle. It felt stolen, that touch, but Crowley would sigh in her sleep and smile just a little, as if she knew he was there. Aziraphale would never let this go on for very long, despite how at peace he felt in those moments. Even the wisp was quiet, keen as always to be as close to Crowley as it possibly could. That some other child got to speak and laugh with her upset it greatly, and Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel the hurt of it all as well.

The years spent raising the Antichrist directly were the bitterest happy days he’d ever experienced in his immortal existence.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some (post) apocalyptic shenanigans

Getting discorporated was a shock, but at the same time Aziraphale couldn’t focus too much on the fear of discovery. He had to get back to Crowley, stop the end of the world, find the Antichrist, the _real_ one this time. Never before had he been so glad of not having any real friends among the angels. Nobody even properly looked at him. Even when the archangels had attacked him they hadn’t realized what was going on. The wisp was on the cusp of being detectable, but all they did was sniff and smile with those detached smirks. 

“You’re halfway to Fallen,” Uriel had said, eyebrows raised in amusement. “To think that none of us recognized that under the human stench.”

It wasn’t something Aziraphale wanted to correct them on. 

Armageddon itself was a rather exciting affair, with the wisp both thrilled and terrified in turns as Aziraphale rushed to the site where the end would start. 

‘ _You promise to fix this?_ ’ its thrills seemed to say as it watched everything go bad around them, escalating faster than Aziraphale had expected. It had felt the shock of losing their body more than Aziraphale, unused to ever being without some semblance of tether to the world. While it had no body of its own, and therefore didn’t know the quirks that came with it, such as feeling gravity and the solidness of your own flesh, it had experienced Aziraphale’s senses in some way. 

That its anxiety was something the kind human going by the name of Madame Tracey could feel was a little unfortunate. Explaining to her that he had a technically unborn child dragged into this mess was a step Aziraphale would gladly have skipped, but the wisp hesitantly sent a wave of goodwill towards the human. Madame Tracey took some arguing to really settle on whether she was dealing with a pregnant angel or an angel that just happened to carry their child around, but then she decided that this really sealed the deal for her. The rest of the world was a good enough reason to go along with helping Aziraphale, but the presence of a child really made refusing seem out of the question. 

It was the most bizarre cocktail of panic and fun. Crowley was at his side once more, always ready to take his hand and do whatever Aziraphale needed him to, despite all the hurtful things he’d said just hours ago. Humanity proved to be full of surprises even after 6000 years, and the Antichrist was a sweet kid, albeit not the one they’d spent so long trying to influence.

He was strange, seeming so intensely human while at the same time having an otherworldly power clinging to him, second only to the Almighty’s and even then distorted by being stuffed into the body of a human boy. 

Adam’s eyes were so very human and not, and as he stared at Aziraphale he created a new body for him, exactly like his old down to the last molecule, the angel couldn’t feel but feel some unsettling sense of dread at his core. Such pure power of creation, completely effortless and with no thought for the particular physics put into it, it hadn’t been felt since before the beginning. 

The human Antichrist and the angel started at one another for a moment, and Aziraphale suddenly knew that Adam at the very least felt the presence of something other than an angel on him, even if he couldn’t see past the wings and the wisp was hiding deep in his feather crown. Then the boy turned his attention elsewhere, clearly deciding that this wasn’t something he needed to worry about for the moment, or perhaps that this was Aziraphale’s business. He was grateful for that, knowing for sure that an airfield at the end of the world was the worst possible place for his wisp to be revealed. 

In the aftermath Crowley, smelling of ash and burned gasoline despite his miracle clean up, smiled at Aziraphale so softly that it nearly seemed alright that their own world might be about to end. The jig was up, Heaven now knew for sure that Aziraphale was willing to act like a Fallen angel, they knew of Crowley and their involvement in stopping Armageddon. There was no way they could avoid retribution now.

Crowley’s hands shook as they clasped Aziraphale’s, though his eyes were as reassuring as they could possibly be in that situation.

“Don’t worry, angel,” he promised, voice hoarse from the day’s events. “We’ll figure something out to get out of being reprimanded.”

“Oh, my love,” Aziraphale let out in a shaky breath and fell into his demon’s arms, kissing him with all the heartache and desperation of the century spent apart. He’d never called him that, and Crowley choked back a sob as he wrapped Aziraphale in his arms, fingers digging into his flesh as if he could prevent Heaven and Hell tearing them apart ever again.

“I’ve always loved you, angel,” Crowley gasped out when they parted, out of breath. “Don’t want them to get to us before you can hear that. I need you to know.”

Aziraphale’s hands shook as well as he pushed Crowley’s hair up and out of his face, eyes shining with emotion.

“I do know, my darling, Crowley. I’ve known, and I love you, too, you must know it.”

Crowley’s face buried against his shoulder was a sweet comfort, both afraid and still shaken by the close scrape with the end of the world they’d both witnessed. After so long even the fear could barely taint the joy of their reunion.

They didn’t move beyond holding and touching each other, mapping out familiar bodies that hadn’t changed since they last could touch one another. Crowley showed Aziraphale to the new apartment that Aziraphale hadn’t gotten to see yet, his new bed that he desperately hoped to get some use out of in the future. Lying under the covers, hands clasped together and legs entwined they whispered about their plans, throwing ideas back and forth. Escape or fight or trickery, and what could possibly get them out of potential punishment.

When their plan took shape with the help of what they knew and what Agnes Nutter had helpfully prophesized Aziraphale very nearly shot it down. He would go to Hell for Crowley in a heartbeat, take on all the hoard could possibly throw at him. The idea of taking the wisp down there was too much though, it was dangerous and Hell wasn’t a place he ever wanted it to see. But then he decided that he’d be brave for Crowley and their child both, trust in his ability to keep it hidden and not give himself away when facing down Crowley’s bosses.

Watching Crowley get dragged away before his eyes wasn’t enough to break his spirit, the damp coldness of Hell only strengthened his spite. He could feel the wisp worry and nestle deeper into his feathers as best he could, and Aziraphale knew he could do this. For millennia he had endured the fear for Crowley’s safety gnawing at his soul, his worry of what the demons might possibly do to him. Now it was time for payback.

The cold was nothing against the vindication and the knowledge that everyone around him was afraid of him, afraid of Crowley. The looks on their faces made it quite easy for Aziraphale to channel a bit of a demonic presence around him. Crowley had told him, once, that he was somewhat of a bastard, and for once Aziraphale didn’t feel the need to deny that an angel could be anything but good to the core.

It was the most amazing feeling to walk out of Hell with his head held high and his hips swinging in that way that always gave him pleasurable thoughts. Towel slung over his shoulder casually and Crowley’s clothes and shoes held in hand Aziraphale sauntered back up again, grinning pleasantly at the demons that shied away in fear. His steps left tiny puddles of holiness as he went, not bothering to dry himself properly until he was truly out, and even with the shock of seeing holy water again and its fear the wisp joined in with Aziraphale’s spiteful pride. Somehow getting dressed felt more vulnerable than taking off the clothes before his would be execution, and Aziraphale was glad to be out and moving on to the spot they’d agreed to meet.

*

After enjoying a wonderful spot of lunch, free to be together, truly _free_ and making this the first real outing as a couple in love, Crowley very nearly faltered from nerves. They stood before the Ritz, the night still young, and both drunk on love and quite a little bit of good champagne. His eyes barely visible behind his glasses Crowley glanced at Aziraphale, bit his lip, swayed on the spot, unsure of whether he could say something or not.

“Would you like to come with me to the bookshop?” Aziraphale asked, smiling kindly and feeling his heart skip a beat with Crowley immediately relaxed, his own face lighting up with a smile. 

“Always, angel,” Crowley replied, and they walked together, unhurried. 

Aziraphale’s hands were clasped behind his back, at ease and enjoying the summer breeze, but only a few blocks down he noticed the way Crowley’s hand twitched, so very close. Realizing that nothing could stop him anymore Aziraphale reached out to take it in his own, and Crowley nearly stumbled over his own feet at the touch. They glanced at each other for a moment, and both smiled as they truly felt the freedom they now had once more. They didn’t let go of each other until they reached the bookshop. 

Once safely inside the shop, which really didn’t seem at all changed besides a new collection of child friendly literature, they couldn’t help but kiss and laugh and hold each other. They stood in the middle of the shop, Aziraphale’s face pressed to Crowley’s chest as Crowley tucked away his sunglasses and swayed them both in the semblance of a slow dance. 

“How about we continue our celebrations with some wine? Or perhaps a scotch if you prefer?”

“Won’t say no to that angel.”

They moved towards the couch, both sitting down on it without the need to keep apart just in case. Crowley pushed against Aziraphale gently, until they were half sprawl out on it, bodies pressed together in an embrace, and everything was perfect and right once more. 

The armrest was soft against Aziraphale’s back and Crowley smiled at him with an ease that made his heart clench. He had seen this look before, the one Crowley gave him when they had been alone and happy and could pretend that everything was just as they wanted it to be. Only now it was real, now they really could be together with nothing in the way.

Nothing, besides the very tiny detail of Aziraphale keeping a very important secret for two centuries. If anyone in all of creation had a right to know, to get angry and get up and leave over such a big lie, it was Crowley.

“Darling,” Aziraphale started slowly, placing a hand over Crowley’s on his cheek, trying to keep it there. It might very well be the last time he’d feel this touch on his skin. He certainly would deserve it, after how many times he had hurt Crowley, pushed him away and rejected him despite what his own heart wanted.

“There is something I need to tell you before I can allow you to… Well. _Resume_ where we left off, so to speak.”

Crowley nodded, eyes unblinking and focused on Aziraphale. He was taking this seriously, willing to listen to anything at all and his shoulders still very relaxed. There was nothing bad he could be suspecting at the moment, nothing he thought Aziraphale could hurt or disappoint him with.

“Oh, this is difficult to explain,” Aziraphale muttered, shifting nervously. Crowley’s hand dropped away to cover Aziraphale’s nervously wringing ones.

“That’s alright, I’ll figure it out.”

“Alright then. It’s. Ah. I have… a child. In me, so to say. It’s. There’s a child.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale for a few moments, expression unchanging until he cocked his head to the side.

“Wot?”

His eyes locked on Aziraphale’s stomach for a second and he couldn’t help but blush at that look.

“No! Not like _that_ , obviously.”

“Yeah, was about to say,” Crowley laughed. “Don’t think either of us knows how to make the relevant bits work to do that. At least I don’t, and no offence, but I don't think you do either.”

At that Crowley paused, his fingers tensing as he frowned.

“Hang on. Then how do you have a child? Did you try raising yet another kid while I wasn’t looking?”

“No, it’s not that either,” Aziraphale cried out, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s in my celestial form. If you look at it then you’ll see a very tiny being of… of angelic origin that’s very much its own thing but without a corporation or a way to leave and be by itself. It’s been there for quite a while now! That’s apparently something that can happen when you mingle your essences too carelessly.”

There was silence for a few moments. Then Crowley’s hands drew away from him, leaving Aziraphale to feel cold and alone all of a sudden.

“When you say mingling essences, you don’t mean… What you and I did, do you?”

“I mean exactly that.”

There was silence again and Aziraphale dared peak up at Crowley, finding the demon staring off to the side, face devoid of any emotion.

“That was over two hundred years ago,” Crowley said slowly.

“I haven’t known for _all_ that time,” Aziraphale hurried to say, as if a few decades would make that much of a difference in the grand scheme of things. “It’s only when it started to be aware enough to try and influence what I was up to that I realized. From the day it could possibly be detected I’ve been trying to keep it hidden from ev- from Heaven.”

Crowley shook his head, and finally his eyes met Aziraphale’s again. They were heartbroken, devastated even and Aziraphale could barely stand meeting them. He couldn’t look away though, he owed this conversation to Crowley.

“So all this time you were trying to keep Heaven from discovering it by yourself?” he whispered. Aziraphale nodded, lips wobbling.

“It was so very obviously demonic, at least in part. I actually thought that a minor demon was watching me at first. If Heaven had found out they would have destroyed it, I’m certain of it.”

Crowley nodded to that, the hurt not leaving at all even as he watched Aziraphale quickly wipe the tears from his eyes before they could fall. Even now that the danger was past it was hard to think of that worry he’d carried for so long.

“What you’re saying is, we fucked, I knocked you up, and you didn’t tell me while trying to keep Heaven from figuring out to punish you?”

“They would have destroyed it!” Aziraphale cried out, then but his lip. “But crude as you said it, you’re right.”

After a few more seconds of unnatural stillness Crowley shot up to his feet, walking away quickly and fast enough that Aziraphale nearly thought he was about to leave. But Crowley only walked as far as it took to reach the nearest bookshelf blocking his way. He stood, his back hunched and turned to Aziraphale, hands clutching at his hair and his knuckles standing out white. 

“You never told me,” he whispered, voice shaky. “Why. Didn’t you… angel, didn’t you trust me? Didn’t you want me to know?”

Crowley turned for a moment, face twisted in pain and brow furrowed in agitation. 

“It’s not that, you must believe me,” Aziraphale replied, just as quietly. Tears were gathering in his eyes, and he refused to cry. This wasn’t about his own pain, this was about what he once again had done to hurt Crowley. “I did, I truly wanted to tell you, but I was so terrified! I believed that I could ensure its safety, keep both Heaven and Hell off our backs and from destroying this child. I can only hope that you’ll find it in you to forgive me for keeping this from you for so long.”

Horror crossed over Crowley’s features for a moment, but then his stance softened. 

“And they really would have destroyed something that’s half angel half demon,” he muttered to himself, and Aziraphale nodded, still shuddering at the thought. 

Minutes passed as Crowley stood with his eyes squeezed shut and his hands still curled in his hair. He was thinking very hard about something, processing what Aziraphale had just sprung on him, and the angel kept a firm lid on his own need to cry and hope that this hadn’t been the unforgivable thing. Then finally, after what felt like eternity, Crowley’s arms dropped and he very slowly returned to the couch. He sat down, not as close as before but not so far away that it felt like a rejection. 

“I could have protected you,” he said. “I would have done everything to keep you safe. _Anything_.”

“I know,” Aziraphale replied. “And that is precisely why I kept it from you. Just the thought of you being dragged down with us was too much to bear. It’s why I grew so distant, later. When it was just me I didn’t care about angels finding out about us as much. But the thought of them sensing your presence on me and noticing our child while they questioned me? It was too much of a risk.”

Crowley’s shoulders twitched as Aziraphale spoke of the wisp, eyes widening just a fraction.

“Where. Ah. Where are they now?” he asked carefully.

“Oh. Well, hiding in my wings, I think,” Aziraphale said, focusing inward. He could feel the wisp nestled in his feathers. “Probably taking a nap again. It does take after you in that regard.”

Crowley let out a surprised bark of laughter, making Aziraphale startle as well. The grin that split his face was enough to rival the sun, and though Crowley still looked devastated and wrecked by sorrow the joy coming off him in waves was a surprise.

“You’re not upset about this?” Aziraphale asked hesitantly, afraid to hope for too much. “About it existing. You won’t leave?”

“Upset? Of course I’m _upset_! But I’m mostly upset that I couldn’t be there for you while you were so terrified of Heaven! I would have done everything I could to make it better!” Crowley hissed, and there were tears in his eyes now as well. “I spent several hours thinking I lost you permanently, angel, I don’t think there’s a limit to how much you could upset me now for me to _leave_. But you’re telling me we have… we have a _child_? I didn’t know that’s something we could _do_.”

Crowley wiped at his cheeks furiously, trying to hide the evidence of his tears. Aziraphale watched him and couldn’t help but think back to every interaction between Crowley and human children he’d ever seen. Of course the demon wouldn’t hate the idea of a child in general.

“What kind of demon do you sssssink I am?” Crowley went on, his speech slurring with emotion. “’ve got the angel of my dreamsssss telling me we’ve got a child? Asssssiraphale! Of courssssse I’m not upssssset about- about-”

He sniffed and Aziraphale fell forwards, arms wrapping around Crowley’s shoulders and face buried against his chest.

“Oh, I’m so glad, my darling!” he cried out. “I was so worried you’d hate me for keeping this from you.”

“I’m not happy ‘bout it,” Crowley muttered, nose buried in Aziraphale’s hair. “Could never hate you, angel.”

“At least I spared you the worry, if nothing else,” Aziraphale said primly, sitting up a little. “Now, would you like to meet it?”

Crowley’s smile grew impossibly wider at that. Arms wrapped around each other they lay down on the couch, making sure they were comfortable and in no danger of falling off. Then they closed their eyes and took a step to the side.

Aziraphale took a moment to look his body and wings over the second he could, finding not a single bit of damage from Armageddon. Crowley appeared just outside Aziraphale’s outer ring, looking much the same as always though his arms shivered with agitation.

“Come in,” Aziraphale told him, halting the rotation of his rings to let Crowley slither his way into his personal space.

He looked around nervously and as Aziraphale spread the wings surrounding his head Crowley let out a gasp. The wisp shifted slightly, dulled from its sleep, and flared to life in shock when it noticed a presence other than Aziraphale for the first time in its life.

“Hey little one,” Crowley choked out, reaching out his hands a little. “Do you know who-”

He didn’t get any further than that, as the wisp cried out and flung itself at him, a comet of joy and excitement, hitting him right in the chest and vibrating with its excitement.

“That little wisp always knew you,” Aziraphale said with a smile, watching as all of Crowley’s arms came up to cradle the wisp, his tail coiling up around all three of them. “Could sort of sense you nearby as well.”

“Oh,” Crowley whispered, eyes shining with tears. “Oh. Well, still polite to introduce yourself. I’m Crowley, the Serpent of Eden. Your- oh Heaven, I guess I’m your dad, aren’t I?”

The tip of his tail wound around Aziraphale legs, tugging him closer.

“So what’s your name?”

The wisp nestled against Crowley’s neck, briefly projecting a very clear image of a shrug. Crowley blinked down at it and then gazed up at Aziraphale.

“Hang on, they don’t have a name?”

Aziraphale wrung his hands helplessly.

“Oh, I’m not good at that, naming things, you see. And I’m an angel, we just always had the name the Almighty gave us. It seemed too strange to even try to name another celestial being. Out of line.”

Crowley snorted and shook his head fondly. He nudged the wisp gently.

“That’s alright, we’ll figure it out. I’m a bit of an expert on picking my own names and deciding on what I am.”

Aziraphale sighed happily, surging forward to wrap his wings around Crowley and their wisp, all three of them together at last. He could barely contain his joy, the glow of his core enough to make Crowley shield his eyes with a quiet protest. The wisp wouldn’t let go of Crowley at all, ignoring the angelic glow around them, used to it since its begining.

It danced along Crowley’s aurora borealis hair, spun along the spiral of his coiled tail, sang and thrilled and wouldn’t let him drop his attention for even a second. It had waited long enough for the opportunity, and Aziraphale lay down with his head on Crowley’s tail, smiling quietly at the two of them.

Predictably, the wisp grew exhausted from all the excitement after a while, settling down against Crowley’s tail and its shine dimming a little as it returned to its interrupted nap.

“The kid can’t stay here forever,” Crowley whispered as he leaned down to Aziraphale, hands running over Aziraphale’s arms affectionately. “We’ll need to figure out how to create a corporation suited for… well. Whatever we’ve got here.”

Aziraphale sighed and nodded sadly.

“There is simply no way we can create a body without making a mess of things.”

“Do you think the Antichrist could help? He gave you a new one after all.”

“Oh. Perhaps, though he had a template to work with, he just made my body exist the way it was before. This one would be entirely new and has to be to its liking.”

They watched the wisp in silence for a moment longer, before taking each other’s hands and returning sideways into their own bodies.

Aziraphale woke with Crowley’s arms around him, heart light for the first time in two centuries. He smiled and kissed his darling hello as Crowley blinked awake as well.

“My love,” Aziraphale said slowly as Crowley hummed at him sleepily. “I think we ought to start plotting another trick to play on Heaven and Hell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're nearing the end, there's only two or so chapters left, depending on wether or not I write an epilogue.


	7. Chapter 7

The issue with corporations was that they weren’t just handed out left and right. Every angel and demon did have a body, one way or another, but if you broke it or treated it too carelessly you wouldn’t get a new one immediately. There was paperwork, waiting lists, assessments of why exactly you had lost your previous one, and how urgently you needed the new body.

What came next, both in Heaven and Hell, as Aziraphale was surprised to find out, was a very simple blueprint. The requisitions officers would approve the request, and proceed to grab a small fob that stored all the possible information a human shaped body could need to pass for mortal, more than anyone but the Almighty could retain in their mind. All those complicated bits and bobs, the movable joints and neural pathways, already connected and ready to go, no need to tinker with it. The angel or demon in need of a body would take it and infuse it with their own occult or ethereal power, amplified through the blueprint and the collective energy of Heaven or Hell. Then the fob would assemble atoms into a body matching up with the owner’s form, though adjustments could be requested.

It was quite easy, behind the layers of bureaucracy, a process that was disorienting but otherwise automatic and not very difficult at all.

“Tend to lose paperwork down in Hell,” Crowley said after finishing his explanation of the process. “Tedious and takes ages to get the right stamps in order.”

“It’s a lot of shouting and blame up in Heaven,” Aziraphale replied, glad that he had never actually lost his body in all his time on earth. Just watching how shaken other angels were after exiting the requisitions office was enough to frighten him right off. Akshaniel was perhaps the singularly least popular angel in all of Heaven and ruled the requisitions with an iron fist, not even realizing that nobody liked him after this.

“I guess we’ll need one of each. Just in case.”

“Certainly. I wouldn’t want to risk any damage, and who knows how heavenly corporations will react to anything demonic.”

So they sat down and planned, trying their best to recall how exactly one could get their hands on such fobs easily. Hell apparently had a bit of a black market going on, but Crowley doubted that there was a way to convince anyone to trade with him. They were a bit terrified of Crowley after all, and nobody would want to risk being caught dealing with the traitor. Heaven meanwhile had them all locked away tightly and if there was a secret trade going on, Aziraphale knew nothing of it.

“I think we really should play up their fear,” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “After all, they believe I can spit hellfire now. Might just walk up and demand to be handed what I want with no further questioning.”

Crowley laughed at that.

“You really are a bastard, aren’t you.”

“Anything for our child,” Aziraphale replied primly, though he couldn’t help his smile.

“She’ll love that. Can’t wait to tell her she’ll get to actually venture out soon.”

Aziraphale blinked in surprise.

“Ah. She?”

“Yeah, our kid, our daughter, remember?”

Crowley grinned as Aziraphale huffed quietly.

“Well of course I do. I just never really thought about how to address… her I suppose. How do you know?”

A shrug.

“She told me when I asked her about names and so on, tried to help her figure out what she might want to be like once she gets a body and all that. And for now that’s what she likes.”

When they weren’t planning or catching up on time spent together Crowley and Aziraphale shifted sideways to be with the wisp. Their child was quickly growing used to Crowley, though it didn’t diminish her excitement in the slightest. Aziraphale would mostly sit by and watch them with a smile, listen as Crowley talked to her and told her stories to entertain her. He’d always been better at bonding with children, and he very clearly knew what sort of stories to tell that didn’t grow boring quickly.

The wisp worried, once she realized the plan, but after a little bit of reassurance she grew giddy with excitement. After all this time she finally would be able to experience the world for herself, without the filter that was Aziraphale’s own consciousness.

“You will love it,” Crowley promised her the day before their little heist was to take place. “I’ll take you on a ride in the Bentley and buy you more ice cream than a human child could handle!”

They both kissed her goodbye before they left, and Aziraphale made sure she was nestled securely in his wings.

He hated seeing Crowley go back to Hell, but his own task was too important to be distracted. Not bothering to hide the wisp fully Aziraphale took the escalator up to the main entrance, smiling subtly in a way he knew the other angels would find unnerving. Thanks to his contact with Crowley and the wisp no longer hiding there was something decidedly demonic about him, clinging just to the edge of his angelic energy.

Nobody stopped him as Aziraphale strode through Heaven confidently, though he saw several angels whisper and stare from a distance. From Crowley’s accounts Aziraphale was sure that the details of the failed Armageddon hadn’t been made public, and his own attempted execution had been very hushed as well. But gossip of his actions before the platoon had spread, and especially the warriors would have tales about the angel that ran off and to earth when explicitly told not to.

Akshaniel was at his desk when Aziraphale strode through the door of the requisitions offices with a bright smile, startling and bristling at once.

“What are you doing back here?” Akshaniel hissed, slamming down his pen.

“I have a few things to collect,” Aziraphale said sweetly. “In case I get discorporated again. Just making sure I’ll have what I need for a new body on hand.”

He watched Akshaniel’s moustache quiver in anger at such a brash request, though there was a nervous edge to him now. His nostrils flared, eyes widened, and Aziraphale knew then that he was sensing the disorienting mix of demonic presence before him.

“Out of the question!” he snapped, but the tension in his shoulders was clear to Aziraphale. Akshaniel was part of the Heavenly army, but he had never been at the very front of the pack. High and mighty when handing out gear, but really, he had never even been close to the battle lines Aziraphale had endured before time even began.

“I do believe you want to stay on my good side,” Aziraphale informed him. “Now, would you hand those fobs over please?”

Akshaniel took a deep breath as if to shout again, when the door opened and Sandalphon strode in, brow furrowed.

“What’s going on, I’ve heard they just opened the gates to-”

He froze, fear clear on his face before he could school his expression back to normal. Aziraphale huffed a laugh, remembering how Crowley had described spitting fire at Sandalphon and the two archangels.

“Hello again, Sandalphon,” Aziraphale said politely, never once dropping his smile. “How very nice to see you again so soon. I hope you are alright after our last meeting?”

Sandalphon flexed his hands, no doubt wishing for a weapon he wouldn’t have. What angel expected to need to defend themselves in the middle of Heaven after all? It wasn’t as if a demon would just saunter in unannounced.

“Why are you here?” he said, his grin a grimace of gold. Akshaniel’ eyes flicked between the two nervously. Evidently he’d heard enough gossip to really be afraid of Aziraphale.

“Ah. See, we’ve been thinking, Crowley and I,” Aziraphale said, folding his hands together in front of his body. It was remarkably easy to be calm now, knowing that there was nothing to fear from Heaven anymore. The bravery he had never been able to muster enveloped him like a welcome coat, well worn and warm. “If one of us were to be discorporated, we’d just end up in Heaven or Hell. Rather inconvenient, to wait for somebody to let us have our bodies back. Why not go up and stock up just in case, make sure we’ll never have to come back up here and bother anyone at all.”

At this Aziraphale bared his teeth just a little, still within the realm of a smile. Sandalphon stared at him, that fear slowly creeping back into his eyes.

“Because I know how long getting a body might take,” Aziraphale went on. “And I feel like I might become quite nasty if I’m impatient.”

A very frustrated angel with the ability to breathe hellfire was not something anyone wanted around, surely, and Sandalphon swallowed thickly before finally breaking eye contact and waving at Akshaniel.

“Give him whatever he wants.”

Akshaniel let out an angry huff.

“We can’t just hand out corporations like it’s manna from the skies!”

“I said give him want he wants,” Sandalphon snapped, making Akshaniel twitch to attention on instinct. “The sooner he has what he came for the sooner he’ll leave and never come back.”

Sensing Sandalphon’s fear Akshaniel seemed to decide that he did not want to know what about Aziraphale could possibly be so frightening. He moved on to the shelves behind him, searching through the cabinets while Sandalphon smiled tensely at Aziraphale. When Akshaniel returned he had a dozen little pocket watch sized boxes, putting them down on the desk with more force than necessary.

“Right, just sign here,” he muttered, clearly upset by being forced into handing over something without further ado.

“How very kind of you,” Aziraphale said, bowing with a delighted laugh.

It really was too much fun terrifying angels that had made his life difficult in the past. He signed the form handed to him with a flourish, winking at Sandalphon who was sweating nervously.

“I would love to stay and chat,” Aziraphale began, gathering up the boxes. Sandalphon quickly raised his arm towards the door.

“Out,” he snapped, gathering his courage. “And don’t show your face here again!”

“I suppose I won’t,” Aziraphale replied, and left with a bounce in his step.

How strange it was, that a lack of imagination in the other angels made them all the more terrified. They couldn’t figure out a single explanation for what he was, or what he was capable of, and that uncertainty frightened them more than anything else ever could.

Nobody else was around as Aziraphale left Heaven, for what he hoped would be the last time. It seemed that Sandalphon or one of the others had made sure no other angel would be around to catch a glimpse of him, and that was just fine by him.

Back in the bookshop Crowley was pacing around, high-strung and nearly jumping when Aziraphale walked in.

“Oh thank someone,” he muttered, wrapping Aziraphale in his arms and kissing him soundly. “Was worried about you getting held up.”

“Nothing of the sorts,” Aziraphale promised. “Did you get what you came for?”

Crowley pointed at a stack of square rusty boxes, all different sized and looking a little bent and worse for wear.

“Practically threw them at me when I said what I came for. Kind of wanted to prevent a riot I guess.”

“I just got to frighten a few angels once more,” Azirapahle laughed and pulled out the fobs from a box.

“Now then. I believe we might as well get started?”

Crowley plucked a rusty green fob from the hellish boxes and placed it in the middle of Aziraphale’s bookshop, right under the round skylight. He grabbed a blanket from their couch as Aziraphale placed his fob down, a tartan one that they both liked to cuddle up under.

They both looked at each other for a few moments, breathing in as dust danced through the light from above. The wisp shivered between Aziraphale’s feathers, knowing what was to come and waiting for it with a mix of fear and excitement.

“Lets meet our daughter,” Aziraphale said softly, and Crowley took his hand with a smile.

It was difficult to figure out how to let the wisp do this by herself. She wasn’t used to actually doing magic, was only partially aware of how to go about making a body despite their best attempts to explain. She tried her best, and Aziraphale channelled all of his power into the unassuming devices before him, feeling Crowley do the same. The trick was in lending his power to someone else without influencing the outcome at all, letting them make use of it without interference.

For a few moments Aziraphale worried that they had done something wrong, but then something clicked at his feet and he gasped as he felt the pull against his wings. Like hands dragging down his skin with too much force he felt the wisp’s presence strip away from him, leave him and pour into the centre of his bookshop. He had to keep himself from grasping at it, instinctually wanting to protect his child from being taken after such a long time sheltering it.

Bright red and gold light gathered on the floor at their feet, slowly at first and then, with a loud pop of displaced air, their daughter was sitting on the soft carpet between them.

Aziraphale couldn’t help his surprised gasp at the sight, stepping away and covering his mouth with his hands. Crowley reacted just as quickly, sinking to his knees and wrapping the blanket around the girl that hadn’t been there before.

She was very small, looking about the age Warlock had when Crowley and Aziraphale had left the Dowling estate after his seventh birthday, but more fragile, lankier than the boy had. She was shivering slightly, an ethereal glow covering her skin but vanishing quickly. Her nose was slightly hooked and her bright hazel grey eyes stared up at the new environment fearfully, dark chestnut red curls falling into her face.

“My darling,” Aziraphale cried out in wonder and sank to the ground at her side.

She flinched briefly, unbalancing and nearly falling over in the bundle of tartan Crowley had made of her. She breathed in uncertainly, gasped, looked down at her hands, flexed her fingers. It couldn’t be easy to have a body for the very first time after being nothing but a celestial being for so long.

“Esther,” Crowley said gently, and the girl calmed a little, looking up at him and then at Aziraphale again, recognition in her eyes as she connected her parents’ presence to the people around her.

“Esther,” Aziraphale repeated. “Is that the name you like?”

She blinked once, and then a smile spread across her face. She made a noise that was an inhuman trill, paused, and then tried again, this time actually using the vocal cords she’d have to get used to.

“Dad!” she said, rising on her knees unsteadily. “Yeah! Of course- yes. I like it! If- if you do?”

She glanced up at Aziraphale worriedly, and he could already feel tears in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her.

“Of course, my darling! If you like it then of course I will too!”

Esther took a few tries to raise her arms, but when she did Aziraphale felt a hug as strong as a child could possibly muster.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you out here as well,” he said, trying not to cry as he buried his face in her messy curls. He felt Crowley’s arms around him as well then, and Esther let out another noise that human vocal chords couldn’t do.

“Oh! Didn’t mean that- I just didn’t think it’s like _this_!” she said, laughing and bouncing and twisting in Aziraphale’s arms to hug Crowley as well. “There’s smells! And soft! What’s so soft?”

“That’ll be a blanket,” Crowley said, his voice thick with emotion. Esther looked up at him and Aziraphale could see Crowley’s instinctive attempt to avert his eyes, to hide the snakelike quality of him, but Esther didn’t even know that this was something to be upset about among humans.

She looked down at the blanket, running her hands over the pattern.

“It’s so pretty!” she gasped out, and Crowley made a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh.

“It’s tartan.”

“I like tartan.”

Aziraphale laughed, tears finally streaming over his cheeks in mirth. Crowley pulled a face as Esther settled on his lap, still poking at the blanket until she started to shiver.

“Let's get you something to wear,” Crowley said, easily lifting her up as he stood. He wasn’t particularly strong unless he was using miracles, but Aziraphale had learned that lifting children in his arms wasn’t something Crowley could tire of. “You’ll get cold.”

Esther thought for a moment, and nodded.

“Don’t like the cold. Dad… Other dad said you don’t like it either!”

“That I don’t,” Crowley nodded, carrying her off towards the couch. “And we’ll need to figure out what you want to call us other than dad and other dad. Might get confusing. Guess you can call me mom sometimes. Never had anyone call me that before.”

Aziraphale fished a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his eyes with a smile. Crowley was already pulling items of clothing from thin air, presenting them to Esther who apparently had more opinions than a being unfamiliar with earth should be able to possess. He retreated to his little kitchenette and left them to it, hands going through the motions of preparing them all a drink, coffee with too much sugar for Crowley, and a hot cocoa for…

He blinked down at the cup, a handful of tiny marshmallows raised over it. He supposed he didn’t have a little wisp to demand he indulge her sweet tooth anymore. Cocoa was something Aziraphale had come to enjoy, though he no longer knew whether it was for himself or for her. He smiled to himself, picking up the cups.

“Here you go,” he said as he returned to the couch and sat down to Esther’s right. She had selected a black sweater that was much too large and yellow leggings with orange cats printed on them already, bare feet poking out of the blanket.

She took the cup and gasped as she realized what it was, and immediately took to drinking it in big gulps. If she were a human child Aziraphale could have chided her and made sure she wouldn’t get a stomach-ache or burn her tongue. But with Esther he supposed that she wouldn’t suffer from drinking too quickly, simply because she didn’t want that to happen and the concept of burning herself on a hot drink didn’t occur to her. 

When she was done Aziraphale set her cup aside and Esther sighed with a soft smile.

“I really like earth,” she said, leaning against Crowley and wrapping a hand around Aziraphale’s wrist, pulling both of them closer until she was nestled between her parents.

Crowley brushed the hair from her forehead, grinning as she yawned. Less than an hour had passed, but already the impressions around her were beginning to tire her out.

“Just you wait until you get to nap for the first time. You won’t be able to decide what’s better.”

“But I don’t want to nap,” Esther complained, already drooping enough for her head to land in Crowley’s lap, her legs stretching out to lie on Aziraphale’s. “There’s so much I still want to see for myself! Books! I want to know what those are like.”

She barely managed to say this through her yawns, mumbling as Crowley tucked her in gently and Aziraphale ran his hand over her back soothingly, smiling and with his heart ready to burst.

“That’s quite alright, my dear,” he said. “You will get to see everything when you’re no longer tired, I promise. Now that we are free and you are here, we quite literally have eternity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only the epilogue is left now


	8. Chapter 8

The Bentley rushed through the countryside at speeds it really oughtn’t be going at, but for once Aziraphale decided that he wouldn’t chide Crowley for this. The demon looked utterly relaxed, leaning back in his seat and hands resting lightly on the wheel.

“You still remember the way, don’t you, dear?” Aziraphale asked, peering out the window at the rush of fresh green, dots of white and purple and yellow blurring by them where the spring’s first flowers were popping up. Last time they were in the area they had been desperately trying to figure out how to stop the Apocalypse. He hadn’t been able to fully appreciate the region apart from the feelings of love settling around Tadfield.

“Sure,” Crowley drawled. “Was dark last time but it’s not something you forget, do you?”

Aziraphale hummed in agreement. They were on their way to a reunion of sorts. He had kept up contact with Madame Tracy of course, feeling like it was only proper after how kind she had been in letting him borrow her body for a while. She still lived in London for now, preparing for a move into the countryside, so meeting up for tea was an easy thing. The Sergeant was there as well, more often than not, though he now seemed a little nervous in Aziraphale’s presence and retreated to his own abode the moment the angel showed up.

The young man who’d stopped Armageddon in its tracks by working his magic on a couple computers was there once or twice, very awkward but polite. He didn’t question what Aziraphale was, seemingly willing to just accept that he was something immortal and magic. Young Pulsifer also sometimes brought up his paramour, the witch who’d originally brought the book of prophecies to Aziraphale’s attention. She seemed to still begrudge the accidental theft of the book, but Aziraphale was sure he could apologize properly for this when they met the next time.

It had been a bit of a surprise when his phone rang and Adam was on the line, asking Crowley and Aziraphale to come along to celebrate the first day of the first spring of the rest of the world. While pleasantly unexpected it did sound like a great idea, so Aziraphale readily agreed, and now they were on their way to Jasmine Cottage.

“Should be there in ten minutes,” Crowley said eventually. “Could make it quicker if you like.”

“No _thank you_ , dearest.”

Crowley grinned and Aziraphale narrowed his eyes at him, before letting out a huff and twisting in his seat to look back.

For the very first time the Bentley had acquired a regular occupant for the backseat, miracled to accommodate a child’s bumper seat after Aziraphale had read about safety in cars for the little ones. Esther sat motionless, her legs swinging with any curves the Bentley took, eyes fixed on the old book in her hands. It was one from the collection that had appeared after Adam fixed the bookshop, and more than once Aziraphale had wondered whether it had been the boy’s own preference or whether he had somehow known that the bookshop needed this addition.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” he asked, and Esther hummed, eyes still fixed on the book.

Aziraphale had always been too agitated by Crowley’s driving to even attempt reading (not to mention that he didn’t often feel like reading when he had the demon’s company so close). Esther however seemed to have no problems with the speed, and perhaps had not yet developed a concept for speed limits either. She hadn’t actually seen the time humanity was still slow and sticking to the speed of horses. If she had noticed the pace of humanity at the time, then she had been just at the cusp of humans speeding up properly with trains and machines. He also suspected that Esther was using a minor miracle to keep the book from jostling too much and giving her motion sickness. It was hard to tell with the very tiny nudges of power whether she was doing something or not.

Watching her, Aziraphale pressed his lips together to keep himself from smiling and from interrupting her too much.

“Are you looking forward to meeting everyone?”

Only Tracy had met Esther so far, when visiting the bookshop, and perhaps, Aziraphale realized, was the only one who really knew about her. He couldn’t remember if he had brought up his daughter to any of the others.

Finally Esther tore her eyes from the pages, eyes lighting up.

“Aunt Tracy said I’d love everyone!” she exclaimed. “They’ll love to meet me!”

“Oh, did you talk to her about our friends?”

“Yes! She said it’ll be a surprise for them.”

Crowley barked a laugh at that.

“A surprise? Oh I like her.”

The Bentley pulled up by the lovely cottage, looking all the more beautiful in the sunshine.

They quickly exited the car, Aziraphale gathering the bag containing a casserole, a box of chocolates and wine for the host while Crowley went to pluck Esther from her seat. She giggled and immediately wrapped her arms around her dad’s neck, legs bouncing against his chest. Crowley looked positively chuffed at having the little girl in his arms, carrying her at any opportunity that presented itself, disregarding how heavy she would get after a while.

Aziraphale looked at them, Crowley as always in all black, sleek and beautiful, and the colourful spot of light blue sweater, leggings and yellow dungarees their daughter was. She smiled, leaning her head on the top of Crowley’s, her dark hair falling over his where it wasn’t pulled back by mismatched yellow hairclips. Esther loved sitting up there, held up and nuzzling against her dad’s head. It was so much like when she had been a tiny ball of light, not yet having a corporation, cuddling into Aziraphale’s feathers. He had to blink away the tears, chest swelling with joy.

“You alright, angel?” Crowley asked, looking over and noticing Aziraphale’s expression.

“Of course. More than.”

The demon watched him for a few moments, then his lips curled in the softest smile. Of course he recognized Aziraphale’s expression. It was the exact same he himself sported every time he walked in on Aziraphale sitting in his favourite armchair, reading out loud as Esther curled up in his lap, half asleep as she listened to his stories. Or when all three of them were trying to get the hang of human cooking without the use of miracles, crowding in Crowley’s sleek kitchen. Or when Crowley and Esther decided it was time to sleep, both comfortable in bed and Aziraphale decided to join them even though he didn’t actually enjoy sleep as much.

There were so many endless moments like that warranting such an expression of love, moments neither of them could have ever imagined just a year ago.

“Come on!” Esther whined then, breaking her parents’ moment as she kicked her legs against Crowley’s chest. “I want to meet the Antichrist!”

“You could always walk yourself, little star,” Crowley chided her, earning him a quiet hiss and tongue poking out.

Aziraphale chuckled and led the way up to Jasmine Cottage then, hearing Crowley mutter something behind them and Esther giggling. She didn’t really have any friends her age, given that her existence had started several centuries ago and her actual body wasn’t even one year old. It took time to truly settle into a corporation, as Aziraphale remembered. Both him and Crowley at least had the benefit of not being overwhelmed by all of human creation at once. Actually interacting with humans was difficult sometimes, as Esther didn’t always know how to act around them, and didn’t quite act like people expected of a human child of her apparent age. And it wasn’t like there were any angelic or demonic children for her to interact with either.

It worried Aziraphale sometimes. He had always been content with the fleeting human connections he picked up and there was no precedent for the social development of angelic children either. There was no way to tell if it was enough that Esther had loving parents and none of the heavenly and hellish pressure to be a certain way, or whether she did need the things Crowley had insisted human children required before. It wasn’t like raising Warlock had been like at all.

Esther had shown interest in Adam at some point, curious about another child of a fallen angel, probably the closest equivalent to herself. And the Antichrist had real human friends, surely they would accept whatever they thought she was as well.

Voices and laughter rang from behind the cottage and as Crowley and Aziraphale stepped around them they were greeted by all the humans that had been at the airfield, standing around in a beautiful overgrown garden. A table had been set up with drinks and food, something Aziraphale immediately gravitated towards with his own offerings.

“Oh, Mr Fell, my dear! You’re the last to arrive!”

Madame Tracy rushed towards Aziraphale with a delighted laugh, a peacock coloured summer dress fluttering in the wind. The host of the party, Anathema was right behind, though she looked a bit hesitant to be near the supernatural creatures once more. She had looked at Aziraphale with the same kind of suspicion both times they had met, so he didn’t mind this at all.

“Thank you for having us,” Aziraphale replied happily, then turned to Anathema to push the bag of food and gifts into her arms. “For you, my dear girl. I believe chocolates and wine are a customary gift for this kind of gathering?”

“Sure,” Anathema replied, handing the bag off to Newt the second he approached. Then her eyes shifted to Crowley and she frowned.

“Who-”

She was interrupted by barking as the hellhound ran towards them, closely followed by a small gaggle of children. At the sight Esther wiggled and clung to Crowley harder, staring at the hellhound with trepidation.

“It’s alright, Dog’s just never met someone like you before,” Adam said as he came to a halt. “Dunno what you are either.”

“It’s cause I’m unique!” Esther replied, pushing against Crowley’s shoulder until he set her down. She stared at Dog for a moment, before both came to the mutual decision of trusting each other and ignoring whatever ties to Hell lay on them.

Esther walked up to the four children confidently, head held high even though she was quite a bit shorter than any of them. To a human, she looked just a few years younger than them.

“You’re half demon too!” she announced as she seized Adam up, who was staring at her with a calculating gaze. “Means we’ll get along.”

“Aren’t you a bit young?” Adam asked, and the girl, Pepper snorted.

“You’re barely older than my sister. She’s no fun to play with either, we get in trouble with mum the second her pants are dirty. That’s why we don’t play with babies, they don’t like their clothes getting dirty.”

Esther wrinkled her nose.

“My clothes know better than to get dirty!”

The human children glanced between each other with raised eyebrows but Adam nodded.

“Fine. We’ll go frog catching now, you can come if you’re not afraid of going into the pond.”

Esther’s eyes lit up at that. She glanced at Crowley who shrugged.

“Sure, just don’t eat the frogs.”

“Ew,” Esther said simply, and then she was already running off with three human children, a hellhound, and an Antichrist.

Aziraphale felt a pang of anxiety as she left his line of sight, but he quickly pushed it down. It was hard to get used to Esther running off where she wanted, after two centuries of always knowing exactly where she was at all times. He was learning to get used to it slowly.

“Who is that?” Anathema asked, staring after the children running off. “She hasn’t been here before.”

Madame Tracy batted her eyes innocently while Shadwell grumbled something from behind her.

“That’s our darling daughter, Esther,” Crowley said with a grin, sliding up to Aziraphale and putting an arm around his waist. “Forgot to introduce herself properly. Proud of her.”

Aziraphale sighed and rolled his eyes fondly.

“She will do that when she’s back.”

“I didn’t know you had a child,” Newt said politely, and Aziraphale shrugged.

“Well, we didn’t really have her when all of us met to stop the end of the world after all.”

He was aware of the humans staring at him, waiting for some kind of explanation about a young child appearing out of nowhere, with no explanation at all. Eventually Anathema blinked, shook her head and turned her attention to fetching cups for the two new guests while Newt shrugged with the air of someone who really couldn’t be bothered to question things at this point in his life.

“Welcome to the reunion,” Anathema said as she handed Crowley and Aziraphale a sparkling wine that smelled wonderfully sweet. “There’s juice for the children if they want to toast but I don’t think they’ll be back for a while.”

The distant splashing of water and excited yelling could be heard from somewhere behind the hedge.

Aziraphale quickly gathered a plate of tasty looking morsels, most of which had apparently been prepared by Madame Tracy and Adam’s earthly mother. It really made Aziraphale hope for a way to befriend the woman that wouldn’t seem strange to humans. Perhaps it would be easier as the parent of one of Adam’s friends, he wasn’t entirely sure how it went with humans in that regard.

Crowley stuck to Aziraphale’s side, occasionally holding his plate for him as the angel gestured wildly during his talks with Anathema. The young witch had warmed up a little when she discovered that she had some things in common with him, their mutual interest in prophecies and out-dated things for one.

“What exactly is Esther anyway?” Anathema asked after the conversation had a brief lull in it. “Is she like Adam or one of you?”

“Angels and demons aren’t that different, if you think about us as a species,” Aziraphale mused, feeling Crowley side eying him with an amused twitch of his lips. “I suppose she is something in between, she certainly feels that way to me.”

Anathema nodded and looked towards where the children had apparently grown tired of the pond and were running past the hedges, Dog in tow. They were all splattered in mud up their trousers, except Esther, who was miraculously free of dirt.

“I wonder if Agnes would have written about this. If she’d seen that far ahead.”

Aziraphale blinked and watched his daughter run, her face scrunched up with giggles. She was swinging a stick at Pepper playfully, her grip naturally sliding into the correct position. Her hair looked nearly as red as Crowley’s in the bright sunlight, and for a moment she looked both the avenging angel and the fierce demon, before her laughter rang across the garden. Esther was neither and both, a child more than any of the other two categories that her parents had never quite fit in anyway. She was just her own thing, she’d never be forced into something she was not.

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Aziraphale said softly, looking on as the human children ran towards the food, Esther in tow and keeping up despite her shorter legs. “If this all ends up being part of the Plan.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows at him, smiling in that impossibly tender way of his.

“You really think Esther existing is part of the ineffable plan?”

Aziraphale sipped his wine and leaned into Crowley’s touch.

“Of course. You do have to admit that she _is_ -”

“Don’t say it, angel.”

They looked at one another and broke into laughter, barely keeping their drinks from spilling.

Esther chose that moment to skip up to them, a muffin clutched in her hand.

“I want to live somewhere that has a garden,” she announced, looking up at her parents with a serious expression. “And a pond. I want a pond to be nearby.”

Crowley ran his hand through her hair, nodding with the same level of gravity.

“The pond will be taken into consideration in our search for the perfect house.”

Esther hummed in agreement and wandered off once more.

“I do hope we’ll find a place like that,” Aziraphale sighed, looking around at the humans in the garden. “I’ve never actually tried to find a proper place that’s my own, other than the bookshop of course.”

“Don’t worry, I know for certain that we’ll find the perfect home for all three of us,” Crowley promised, squeezing Aziraphale a little and grinning at the questioning look.

“How would you know, darling?”

“Lets just say that I’m quite used to things being ineffable with you around, love.”

Aziraphale huffed a laugh and leaned his head against Crowley’s shoulder, delighting in the easy way he could now show affection to his partner. They clinked their glasses together in toast, love of humanity and a home and family seeping through the air around them, and their own love joining in just as easily.

It was the first spring of the rest of the world, and Aziraphale really did feel that this was the start of something unknown and absolutely beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading this fic! I'm so happy with the response this got, and I honestly didn't expect it. I know kid fics are already an acquired taste, and then one with the rules of the world I spun here? Thank you!
> 
> Now on to some naming stuff:  
> Akshaniel was named in my "hebrew word to describe character" + "iel" method, I don't actually speak hebrew but it's ought to mean "stubborn/obstinate" which I felt really fit that one guy
> 
> Esther meanwhile was named after one of my favourite biblical figures. Esther in Persian comes from the word for star, though apparently the connection to the goddess Ishtar is also drawn, who is an equivalent to Ashtoreth.. Seemed fitting. Not only that, in Hebrew Esther has the same root as the word for "hidden, concealed". That dual meaning seemed to good to pass up on

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: I sketched out Crowley and Aziraphale's true forms: https://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/190479433058/
> 
> Wow, guess that's an idea I decided to run with! 
> 
> This fic is completed and only needs some editing, new chapters on Saturdays


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